


Broken Mirror

by D_elfie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Bad Parent Halward Pavus, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Gay Sex, Halward Pavus Being an Asshole, Homophobia, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Sex, Smut, Transphobia, canon homophobia, conversion therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-08-09 22:39:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_elfie/pseuds/D_elfie
Summary: Dorian is with Rilienus in modern Minrathous when everything starts going wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit dark for a while. I will update tags as I go so keep checking if you're the squishy sort... though if that's the case, you probably didn't make it through the initial tags. This is my modern retelling of Dorian's history. I'm trying to incorporate canon where it makes sense but it is obviously by no means canon compliant. 
> 
> I have a few chapters ready for posting but am still working on this piece around others, so updating will not be regular but it is going to be updated.

Metal doors and stall walls blocked out all but the pounding of the deep bass. Dorian could feel the rumble and thump course through his bones. The sensation grounded him even as the alcohol helped him float away, numbing his body and mind. The bass set the pace of his movements – slow, steady and determined. 

He hummed, winning a moan from above. Dorian glanced up at Rilienus’ face. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was biting his forearm to stifle the moan. He was close. Dorian pressed his hands against Rilienus’ hips, holding him against the stall wall, preventing him from bucking. Dorian hollowed his cheeks and swirled his tongue around the tip of Rilienus’ cock. He teased, sucking on only the head, humming and flicking his tongue until he felt fingers carding through his hair. The touch started out loving before the hand was pressing just enough to make a point. He could feel Rilienus’ hips press up against his hands.

“Dorian,” Rilienus moaned, panting around his forearm. “Stop teasing.”

Dorian pulled back, releasing Rilienus with a pop. 

“Quietly, darling. Do you want us to get caught?” Dorian said.

He grinned as he slid his hands around to Rilienus’ ass. He grabbed it, yanking his hips forward and forcing Rilienus’ cock into his throat. Dorian suppressed a gag as Rilienus thrust, two quick movements before Dorian was swallowing. He worked his throat, trying to swallow everything as Rilienus moaned his name. 

This was a game they played and Dorian always won. Or perhaps Rilienus always let him win.

“Get a fuckin’ room, ya fags!” A gruff voice shouted from the stall beside them as a fist pounded against the connecting wall. 

“How about I come over there and show you what you’ve been missing?” Dorian retorted, wiping a hand across his lips. He stood slowly, knees briefly sticking to the floor. He didn’t want to think about what mix of fluids were now covering his jeans. 

“You’re abominations!”

Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes at Rilienus. “If you think that, you’re in the wrong club, darling.”

Rilienus wrapped a hand around the nape of Dorian’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Dorian knew it was to keep him from continuing to antagonize the bigot next to them, but he didn’t care. He draped his arm around Rilienus’ waist and pulled their bodies tightly together. He ran his tongue over Rilienus’ lower lip until Rilienus parted his lips and kissed him back. Their tongues danced around each other and this time it was Dorian who moaned. His cock strained against the fabric of his jeans and he ground against Rilienus’ thigh, the friction relieving some of the ache. 

**Thud** .

The whole stall shook around them. The pair pulled apart just before the door burst open. Rilienus stepped in front of Dorian, blocking his view. Dorian stood on his tip toes and peered over Rilienus’ shoulder. 

The middle-aged man in front of them was short and broad, with a belly that spoke of indulgence. His hair was thinning, and he had tried to hide that fact by combing it over. Dorian wasn’t surprised the homophobe was vain and insecure – that seemed par for the course. 

“Either you queers leave right now, or I’ll make it so you can’t suck cock for a month.” The man clenched a fist and flexed his arm to emphasize the point. 

“Well now, we can’t have that, can we sweetheart?” Dorian drawled. “Whatever would I do with myself if I couldn't suck a cock?”

Rilienus shot him a look that very clearly said,  _ Shut the fuck up, Dorian _ . 

“Fuckin’ faggot.” The man stepped into the stall, and threw a punch. 

The stall was too small to allow dodging so Rilienus raised his arms, blocking the incoming punch and redirecting it to side. He used the other man’s momentum and pushed him against the wall. He pressed his arm against the back of the man’s neck, forcing his face against the cold metal. 

“Dorian,” Rilienus growled.

“Yes?” Dorian said, voice quivering more than he wanted it to. 

“Go.” Rilienus glanced over at him. “ _ Now _ .”

“What about you?” Dorian stepped around the struggling pair even as he protested.

“I said go,” Rilienus said through gritted teeth. He kicked his attacker’s ankles apart, sending him unceremoniously to a knee. “I will meet you at the car.  _ Please _ .”

The note of concern in Rilienus’ voice sent Dorian fleeing from the bathroom. He took one last glance just in time to see Rilienus grab the man by the hair and smash his face into the wall. There was a shout of pain, but it was mostly drowned out by the club music. With the bathroom door closed, Dorian couldn’t hear the struggle he knew was going on behind it. 

Strobe lights flashed and bodies whirled and writhed to the trance music being spun by a DJ that looked too young to be legally allowed in the club. Dorian weaved through the press of bodies, glancing back over his shoulder every couple steps in the hopes of seeing Rilienus. 

On his way out the door, he considered grabbing a bouncer. The bouncer would help Rilienus--or would he? It was so hard to say in Tevinter. And information about a gay tryst between two sons of prominent families could be worth a lot to the tabloids. Deciding he couldn’t take  the risk, Dorian slipped outside. 

The cool air hit him and pushed away the remaining fog of alcohol. Fifteen minutes prior he would have said he was too drunk to drive, but now he felt completely sober. He rushed down the block to were Rilienus had parked. 

Rilienus had borrowed one of his staff’s small cars, his own sports car being too conspicuous. Dorian perched on the edge of the hood, staring back at the club’s entrance. One foot tapped the ground and he fiddled with the edge of his moustache. He wasn’t good at waiting. He wasn’t good at taking orders either, except he’d never heard someone sound so concerned for his safety before. Never heard someone sounds like they truly cared.

The night had begun like a dozen before. Rilienus picked Dorian up at his hotel and they’d gone drinking and dancing at the closest thing to a gay bar in Mintrathous. Most evenings culminated with one of them on their knees in a bathroom stall, but they were hardly the only ones. Dorian had a bad feeling about this place from the start, but he had ignored it… just like he ignored Rilienus’ warnings....  He would never let Dorian hear the end of it--if he ever got out of the club. 

Dorian was getting anxious. Maybe the man had managed to overpower Rilienus? Dorian huffed and pushed off the car, marching back in the direction of the club. He shouldn’t have left in the first place. When had he become a coward? 

He was nearing the line of scantily clad 20-somethings of both genders waiting to be allowed entry when someone grabbed his elbow. Dorian spun, nearly punching Rilienus in the jaw. 

“Kaffas! You scared me! Are you –“

“Run!” Rilienus pressed a hand against Dorian’s back and propelled him forward. “In the car. Now.”

There was a beep and the car’s lights flashed ahead of them as they ran. Despite his words, Rilienus’ face was split with a manic grin and he was laughing. 

Over the laughter, Dorian could hear shouting behind them. He chanced a glance over his shoulder as he reached the car. It wasn’t their attacker, or even the bouncers, as he’d expected. 

No. It was much worse: paparazzi. 

“Where did they come from?” Dorian shouted over the roof of the car. He opened the passenger door and flung himself into the seat. Had it been Rilienus’ sports car the windows would have been tinted. The borrowed staff car had regular, untinted windows. Dorian bent his head down and put a hand up against the glass to try and block any cameras. 

“They were waiting by the side entrance,” Rilienus said, sliding in to the driver’s seat and starting the engine as quickly as possible. “I don’t think they were after us. It took them a minute to realize who I was… but when they did, it was game over.” He shifted the car into reverse, backing out of the parking spot enough to make a clear run at the road. The photographers had arrived next to them but weren’t willing to risk their lives by getting in the direct path of a speeding car. Rilienus floored it and the paparazzi quickly disappeared into the night. 

“This wasn’t quite how I pictured the night ending. We are at least one orgasm short of my original plans.” Dorian sighed, letting his head fall back with a thud on the hard headrest. He suddenly felt exhausted.

“The night isn’t over yet, is it?” Rilienus laughed. The manic tinge had dissipated, but he somehow managed to still sound amused. Joyous almost. It was positively infuriating. And it warmed Dorian’s heart.

“Mmm. Well, technically it is. Most people consider this morning,” Dorian said as he tapped the stereo’s clock. 

“That just means it’s a new day and we can make it anything we want,” Rilienus responded. He slid his right hand up Dorian’s thigh, resting it at the crease of his hip. 

Dorian leaned over the centre console and brushed his lips against the shell of Rilienus’ ear and purred, “And what do you want?” 

The car jerked slightly to the right and Rilienus squeezed Dorian’s thigh hard. 

“I want to start by making it back to my place alive,” Rilienus said, keeping his eyes on the road. He moved his hand further to the right, resting it lightly on Dorian’s groin. “And then I want to take you upstairs,” he started rubbing in light, teasing circles but his voice remained even, conversational, “press you against the wall, rip your clothes off…”

Dorian snorted. “Please don’t. I like this shirt.” 

Rilienus pressed down harder and Dorian gasped. 

“As I was saying,” Rilienus said, as if he’d been interrupted by a child. “I will rip off your clothes… and then push you down onto the bed.” His fingers worked at Dorian’s fly as he spoke. He popped the button and pulled the zipper down in short order. Dorian’s cock was half hard and he shifted in the seat to arch up into Rilienus’ hand. “I will take you in my mouth and tease you with my tongue until you beg for more.”

“Fasta vass, Rilienus. I’m not going to make it to your place if you keep that up,” Dorian moaned. He closed his eyes, focusing his attention on the sensation shooting through his stomach. On Rilienus’ smooth voice. 

“…and even when you beg, I’ll keep teasing,” Rilienus continued, ignoring Dorian’s second interruption. He flicked on the blinker, turning down a dimly lit street lined with tall trees. “You’ll want to come, but I won’t let you.”

The friction through Dorian’s silk boxers was just enough to get him hard and keep him there through the drive. Rilienus showed no indication of going any further than stroking and rubbing. It was incredibly frustrating in the most fantastic way.

“No… You’ll only come,” Rilienus lowered his voice and put a slight growl into it, “after I’ve fucked you thoroughly into the mattress.”

The growl sent a shiver down Dorian’s spine and he moaned. Rilienus’ voice alone was enough to drive Dorian towards the edge.

They came to a stop in front of an ornate gate and Rilienus removed his hand from Dorian’s crotch. 

Dorian whimpered quietly as the lose. 

Rilienus reached up to press a button attached to the visor. The gates opened, and Dorian expected the hand to return to its stroking, but he was disappointed. 

As they drove slowly up the winding laneway, Dorian huffed and did up his pants. 

“You’re a worse tease than I am, Rilie,” Dorian said, flicking Rilienus’ ear with a manicured nail. 

“Ouch! Brat!” Rilienus punched him playfully in the arm. “I’m tempted to leave you like that now.”

“Go ahead. Your chef has been eyeing me since I first arrived; perhaps I’ll go find him.” Dorian teased, not meaning a word of it. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone other than Rilienus - a strange feeling for Dorian. 

Rilienus put the car in park and turned to look at Dorian, eyes searching his face. A small smile graced Rilienus’ lips as he slipped a hand around the back of Dorian’s head. “Don’t you dare,” he growled and leaned forward, lips crashing together. 

It was an awkward kiss, both men still restrained by seatbelts; Dorian’s had even engaged at the sudden jerk forward. Dorian was not deterred. He pressed forward, wrapping an arm around Rilienus’ neck. He slid his tongue along Rilienus’ lower lip, tasting the remnants of the sugary drink he’d had at the club. He pressed further, slipping his tongue into Rilienus’ mouth, searching for the taste of Rilienus on his tongue. A taste he always longed for.

Dorian used his free hand to unbuckle the seatbelt and shifted, expertly climbing over the gear stick to straddle Rilienus’ lap. He hugged close and moaned as he felt the press of Rilienus’ erection. He rolled his hips, grinding down against it until he earned a groan. Rilienus bucked up, and Dorian was pushed back against the steering wheel, setting off the horn.

They broke apart with a laugh. Rilienus slid a hand between them to unbuckle his seatbelt and lifted his hips to direct Dorian back to his own seat. “Save it for the bedroom,” he said breathlessly. 

It took twice as long as it should have to reach Rilienus’ room. Passion pushing down the negative emotions of earlier, Dorian couldn’t keep his hands off Rilienus. Every open patch of wall, he’d spin and press Rilienus to it. They’d kiss and grind until Rilienus would protest and drag Dorian once again down the hall. 

Good on his word, Rilienus’ first act upon reaching the bedroom was to press Dorian against the closed door in a passionate kiss that took Dorian’s breath away. He slid his hands up Dorian’s chest, gripped the edges of his shirt, and pulled. Threads snapped and buttons flew and skittered around the room. 

“Rilie,” Dorian groaned, kissing his way along Rilienus’ jaw to his ear. “I thought I was clear about  _ not _ ripping my clothes off,” he said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Rilienus laughed softly, dancing his fingers over the ridges and plains of Dorian’s abdomen and chest. He paused at his nipples. He took them between his fingers, rubbing gently as he murmured, “I’ll get it fixed tomorrow.” He squeezed and twisted. 

An electric pulse ran through Dorian – a mix of pain and pleasure – and he arched off the wall. Rilienus released one nipple and leaned down to take it between his teeth. “Oh… Oh!” Dorian squirmed and wrapped his fingers in Rilienus’ hair. 

Rilienus used his free hand to pop the button of Dorian’s pants. He released his hold on Dorian’s nipples and trailed his tongue down the middle of Dorian’s chest. He followed the line between Dorian’s abdominal muscles, pausing to lick around Dorian’s navel. 

Dropping to his knees, Rilienus mouthed the outline of Dorian’s cock through his boxers. Dorian shuddered as heat and moisture filtered through the thin fabric. He closed his eyes, focusing on the light pressure of Rilienus’ lips and the soft moans he made. Dorian tried to be gentle with his fingers in Rilienus’ curls, but couldn’t help pulling when Rilienus nipped through the fabric.

“Vae! So that’s how we’re playing it?” Dorian yanked, pulling Rilienus up by his hair. Rilienus yelped, but didn’t resist, and Dorian smirked and took Rilienus’ lower lip between his teeth. Rilienus shivered in his arms and Dorian pressed on. He nibbled his way down Rilienus’ neck, stopping at the edge of his collar, and bit down where his neck and shoulder connected - his favourite spot. He walked forward as he nibbled, forcing Rilienus back toward the bed. 

Just before they reached it, Rilienus wrestled back control. He gripped Dorian’s hips and spun, catching Dorian off-guard. Before Dorian could react, Rilienus had pushed him onto the be and crouched down. He quickly pulled off Dorian’s shoes, followed by his pants and boxers. Dorian shivered as he lay naked, except for the ruined shirt, being admired by Rilienus. The hungry in Rilienus’ eyes caused a flutter in Dorian’s stomach.

Rilienus took one foot between his hands and started kissing his way upwards. Dorian squirmed, not completely comfortable with someone that close to his feet. Rilienus ran his fingers up ahead of the kisses, massaging and stroking Dorian’s leg. When he reached the knee, Rilienus set Dorian’s ankle on his shoulder and switched his attention to the other leg. 

With both ankles resting loosely on his shoulders, Rilienus kissed along the insides of Dorian’s thighs. He moved slowly, nipping and licking when Dorian fell silent for too long. He trailed his fingers up, scratching lightly with his nails, stopping when his hands rested on Dorian’s hips. He pressed down, pinning Dorian against the bed. Dorian felt soft puffs of air across the head of his cock and waited for the sensation of being enveloped between Rilienus’ sweet lips. 

And waited. 

Dorian whimpered and tried to buck up, but Rilienus held him down. Dorian looked down, eyes pleading, to find Rilienus smirking up at him. He loved that smirk. He loved the teasing. 

“Damn it, Rilie,” Dorian panted. He couldn’t quite reach Rilienus’ hair, so he settled for lacing their fingers together on his hip. 

Suddenly Rilienus’ tongue drew a line along the length of Dorian's cock--teasing and light. Dorian gasped. Rilienus’ attentions were infuriatingly slow and teasing, as he’d promised in the car. Dorian quickly begged for more.

When Dorian was certain he couldn’t take anymore, Rilienus relented. With barely a pause, he swallowed Dorian’s cock to the hilt. 

“Fuck,” Dorian hissed and pressed his head back against the mattress. 

Rilienus held Dorian in his mouth, unmoving, while Dorian groaned and tried to arch up. When he did finally move, he raised up until only the head of Dorian’s cock remained between his lips. 

“Please, Rilie,” Dorian gasped. He used an elbow to prop himself up and watch Rilienus. “Please. I can’t do this much longer.” 

Not a cruel man, Rilienus conceded. He pulled back completely and stood. He kicked off his shoes and slipped out of his pants and underwear quickly. Dorian loved how Rilienus would take him to the edge but always knew when to stop.

Dorian took the momentary break to shuffle further up the bed. He leaned to rummage in the bedside table and pulled out a condom. When he looked back, Rilienus was standing naked beside the bed. He was the most gorgeous man Dorian had ever seen. He’d never felt drawn to someone the way he was drawn to Rilienus and he crawled down the bed, stopping to kneel in front of Rilienus. He felt like he should worship the man before him.

With a smirk, Dorian ripped open the condom packaging, tossing it on the floor, and rolled the condom slowly, reverently down the length of Rilienus’ cock.

Rilienus grinned wickedly and pushed Dorian back down onto the bed. Dorian’s heart skipped in anticipation and he wiggled further up the bed. 

“Now for the end of our little story,” Rilienus purred. He grabbed a pillow and, lifting Dorian’s hips with one arm, slid it under Dorian’s ass. He grabbed Dorian’s legs and draped them back over his shoulders, kneeling between them. 

Gripping Dorian’s hips hard, Rilienus slid his cock between the cheeks of Dorian’s ass. He thrust two teasing slides between Dorian’s cheeks before lining himself up. He paused, looking into Dorian’s eyes and waiting for the faint smile and nod. Dorian didn’t waver in his consent; he felt safer with Rilienus than he had with any other person. 

There was no further hesitation from Rilienus either, and he pushed in slowly. Dorian gasped and gripped the duvet beneath him, knuckles white. 

Rilienus sat, hilted, as Dorian moaned beneath him. He waited, watching Dorian, until he begged again. Once again, it was part of the game they both loved. 

“Rilienus. Please. Don’t make me wait any longer,” Dorian groaned. He thought he’d go mad if he was teased any more. 

“No longer, amatus,” Rilienus said and shifted, lifting Dorian’s hips higher. He bent forward, folding Dorian slightly as he thrust.  Jolts ran up Dorian’s spine and he cried out. 

He felt Rilienus’ hand wrap around his cock and start stroking at the same pace as his hips. The movements started off slow, but Rilienus quickly picked up pace. It wasn’t long before his thrusts became erratic and he was gasping Dorian’s name. 

“Dorian. Amatus. Yes…” He hissed. 

Every time Rilienus used the endearment  _ Amatus  _ Dorian felt a small flutter. For the longest time he’d thought he’d never hear that word from another man’s lips. Now it was pouring from the lips of the most perfect man he could imagine.

Rilienus gave one final, hard thrust and then stilled his hips. He groaned Dorian’s name and kept jerking his hand until Dorian gasped and shouted, “Rilienus!” 

Dorian felt hot come landing on his stomach and chest. Then, there was a slight feeling of loss as Rilienus released him and slowly pulled out. Dorian heard the snap of the condom being removed but was still too lost in the fog of release to watch Rilienus clean up. 

A few moments later, he felt the soft brush of a towel across his stomach. Rilienus was a perfect mix of passionate and caring. Dorian remembered the concern in Rilienus’ voice back at the club and his heart warmed.

Once he’d been cleaned off, Dorian pulled back the duvet and settled beneath it. He was already starting to doze off when he felt a solid, warm body press against his back. His protector. He rolled over and Rilienus wrapped his arms around Dorian’s waist. 

With trepidation Dorian whispered “I love you,” against Rilienus’ neck. There was a knot in his stomach as he said the words and he held his breath as he waited for the backlash. 

Instead, Rilenus tightened his embrace and nuzzled his face into Dorian’s hair. He kissed the top of his head, his cheek, his jaw, and then ever so lightly his lips.   

“I love you too, amatus.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Rilienus' antics catch up to them, but not how they'd expected.

The light streaming through the window was too much for Dorian to handle. Even through his eyelids, it hurt. There was a pounding in his head that felt like a whole construction crew was working in his skull. He’d clearly had too much to drink. 

Then there was the yelling. 

Was that Rilienus? 

Dorian sat up in bed – too fast. The world spun and he felt like he was going to vomit. When the room righted itself, Dorian looked around. Rilienus was gone. There were raised voices coming from the hallway. Rilienus was definitely one of them. Dorian thought he might have recognized another as well, but he couldn’t place it. 

“You have no right to be here.” That was Rilienus.

“I have his father’s orders. He’s coming with me and you can’t do anything about it.” That other voice was causing an itch at the back of Dorian’s head. He slowly got up, stumbling slightly as his feet hit the cold floor. He gathered his clothing from the floor and slipped into it as best he could – shirt buttons scattered about the room as they were.

“Over my dead body,” Rilienus said, closer to the door now.

“Don’t tempt the fates, boy,” the other man said. 

There was the sound of skin hitting skin. A slap? And a second later a thud on the door and Rilienus crying out. 

Fear suppressed nausea and Dorian stumbled to the door. He listened for a moment before pulling it open. The sight on the other side turned his blood cold. 

Rilienus lay crumbled against the door jamb. He was conscious, but his face was covered in blood. It looked like his nose had been broken. Dorian dropped to his knees and gathered Rilienus into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. 

“Amatus. Amatus,” He murmured and rocked Rilienus. 

“So, it’s true,” The gruff voice said and was followed by the slap of newspaper hitting the polished stone tiles. 

“So, what if it is? It isn’t a crime,” Dorian responded. “And how dare you hit a member of the Abrexis household. I’ll have you arrested for this.”

Dorian looked at the paper in front of him. It was a tabloid… and he and Rilienus were on the cover.  **_A secret affair between Tevinter’s top houses!_ ** was written across the cover. The photo wasn’t particularly incriminating. It was just Dorian and Rilienus as they were getting into the car, but that’s how tabloids worked, wasn’t it? Making up lies using the thinnest truths…except for this time it wasn’t a lie. 

Dorian helped Rilienus to stand and guided him into the bedroom and to the en-suite to get cleaned up. The stranger followed.

“The boy can take it up with your father if he wants. I’m just following orders.”

“My  _ father _ ?” Dorian settled Rilienus on the lid of the toilet seat and spun. “What does that man have to do with this? What orders? I can’t imagine he told you to beat up the scion of House Abrexis.” 

“He said to bring you home.  _ Any. Means. Necessary _ .” The man stood, blocking the bathroom door, and Dorian suddenly felt like a caged animal. His eyes darted around the room, looking for another route of escape. He stood up straight, grabbing a washcloth for Rilienus to hold against his face. 

“And if I refuse to go? Are you going to beat me too?  _ Abduct _ me?” Dorian huffed, grabbing another cloth and wetting it. “Go back to my father tell him I refused. Tell him that he can shove his old, dogmatic ways up his ass.” 

“Yes.”

The one word stopped Dorian in his tracks. He blinked and turned back, raising a brow. “Yes? Yes, what?”

“Yes: I will beat you; I will abduct you,” he said flatly. No emotion. No sign that the man felt anything at all about the prospect. Dorian shivered, but placed his body in front of Rilienus, nevertheless. He tried to stare the man down as he had dozens of bullies before him, but the man simply blinked back at him. “You will come with me. Peacefully.” 

“Don’t go, Dorian,” Rilienus pleaded with him, his voice more nasal than previously. His nose was definitely broken. Dorian felt a tug on the waist of pants. He looked over his shoulder and forced a smile. 

“Don’t fuss over me, Rilie. I’ll be fine.” He looked back at the man looming in the doorway. “Can we have a moment? As you have probably observed, there is no escape route.”

The man hesitated, looking around the bathroom. When he was satisfied, he grunted and turned, stepping back into the bedroom. He left the bathroom door open behind him and Dorian stomped over and slammed it shut. His head regretted that move, Dorian cringing as the sound set off the pounding in his skill, but it felt right. He stared at the closed door, letting out a deep sigh. 

“Dorian?” Rilienus’ voice was quiet and strained. There was a small quiver in it that broke Dorian’s heart. Dorian turned, trying to smile through the ache in his chest.

“Yes, amatus?” He walked over to Rilienus and crouched down to be level with his eyes. He was crying. “Oh, my darling,” Dorian whispered and pulled Rilienus into his lap. He hugged him close, combing his fingers through Rilienus’ hair in light, soothing strokes. 

“Don’t go,” Rilienus said again, a small hiccup finishing his words. Dorian felt the prickle of tears in his eyes and swallowed them back. Instead, he laughed, perhaps a bit more harshly than intended.

“It’s just father. It will be fine. I’ll go home. I’ll be admonished. I’ll play proper son for a few weeks and then I’ll be right back here where I belong. With you in my arms.” He kissed the top of Rilienus’ head, then down across his cheek and to his lips. “Don’t worry,” he murmured and kissed him.

In that kiss was every emotion he knew he couldn’t convey with words: love, desire, pain, and sorrow. Dorian tasted salt and kissed through the tears. He held Rilienus tightly until there was a pounding on the door. 

“Come on. I’m not waiting all day.” The voice from the other side was muffled but clearly annoyed. Dorian pulled back, kissing Rilienus’ forehead. 

“I need to go, amatus. No point in giving the brute another reason to be violent.” Dorian ran his hand from Rilienus hair and down the side of his jaw. He held Rilienus’ face in his hand. “It will be fine, my love. Smile.”

“Call me when you get home, please?” Rilienus gripped Dorian’s wrists, pulling his hands to his lips and kissing both palms. 

“Of course.” Dorian flashed his best smile, even though his heart was breaking. “Goodbye, amatus.” Dorian kissed him gently and stood. He ran his fingers through his own hair, twisted his moustache into shape and set his shoulders back before opening the bathroom door. 

His father’s hired muscle was standing on the other side. He grabbed Dorian’s upper arm and yanked him into the bedroom. 

“Let’s go, princess,” he said gruffly, pulling Dorian across the room. Dorian glanced back, once, to see Rilienus standing in the bathroom doorway--beautiful face streaked with tears, snot and blood. It was the worst last image Dorian could think of; he almost regretted looking back. He tried one last smile and blew Rilienus a kiss before he was hauled into the hallway. 

When they reached the grand stairs, Dorian shook the man off his arm. “I can walk on my own, thank you. I have enough dignity that I will not run. Let’s just get this over with.”

The man grunted and released his grip. Dorian rubbed his arm, sure he’d have bruises the next day. He was led outside to the black limo and ushered into the back. He glanced around and sneered. It was one of his father’s--there were decanters of his favorite whiskey on a little shelf. 

“So where is dear old dad?” Dorian asked as the man slid into the car across from him. 

“Qarinus,” the man grunted. 

“Qarinus? We’re not  _ driving _ there are we?” Dorian put on his best spoiled-rich-kid tone. It was one of his best forms of armor. 

“No,” the goon responded.

“Do you have a name?” Dorian queried. He’d like to have something other than “goon” or “hired muscle” or “asshole” to call the man. 

“Crassius.”

“Ah. Can I call you Crass for short?” Dorian said with a smirk. 

Crassius didn’t respond. He knocked on a glass divider and, when it lowered a crack, said: “Go.” 

The motion of the limo was doing nothing for the roiling of Dorian’s stomach. He’d managed to suppress nausea while comforting Rilienus but now every pothole and every turn threatened to dislodge the contents. Though, having subsisted on little more than wine for the last week, there was not much to threaten. He hunched forward, hugging himself, and groaned. Crassius’ were eyes on him, he knew it, though he refused to open his own and acknowledge the man sitting across from him. He was angry enough without meeting the disapproving stare from one of his father’s hired goons.

Dorian was starting to doubt that they  _ weren’t  _ driving to Qarinus with how long they’d been driving. He started to drift off. He body demanded more sleep, but his brain wouldn’t allow it.  A noise or bump and he’d jolt awake, only to see Crassius staring at him. The man still showed no emotion.  _ Nothing _ . 

“Shall we?” Dorian gestured at the door.

“When they’re ready.”

“And how long until that happens? Shall I take another nap? Maybe we can swap funny stories about my father while we wait?” Dorian lounged back on the large seat and grinned. 

“Ten or fifteen minutes. Do what you want until then.” 

“Well in that case.” Dorian reached to pull his phone from his pocket... And discovered it wasn’t there. “Fasta vass,” Dorian muttered. His phone must have fallen out of his pants the previous night and lay somewhere in Rilienus’ bedroom. Change of plans… Dorian opened the car door and hopped out before Crassius could grab him.

“Hey!” Dorian heard behind him but he kept going. He put on a pleasant smile and walked up to the woman standing near the small plane’s steps. 

“How long must I wait to board? It’s frightfully dull in that limo. No proper company at all.” Dorian winked at the woman and glanced back to see Crassius stalking up to him.

“Oh, you can board now if you want, Mister Pavus. We’re nearly ready to go.” She smiled and gestured up the stairs.

“Are you? How wonderful. Thank you…” Dorian paused, waiting for her to offer a name.

“Eleni, sir.” She smiled shyly. Dorian turned up the charm.

“Well thank you, Eleni. In that case, I will find my seat.” He smiled and ascended the steps. When he was onboard he looked around the cabin. He knew the plane better than he’d care to, having spent too much time on it when he was younger. 

Crassius joined him almost immediately. He sat across from Dorian as he’d done in the car.

“Do you think I will somehow escape, even at thirty-five thousand feet in the air? Can’t I at least have this flight without you sitting there staring at me?” Dorian snarled. He just needed to be alone. He got up and moved to another seat and pulled the window shade down. Crassius didn’t follow. 

Eleni appeared shortly after, offering Dorian wine. This, he happily accepted. Before the plane began its trek down the runway, Dorian had already downed the first glass and poured a second. He may have to see his father, but he didn’t have to do it sober.

He’d finished the bottle and drifted off to sleep when the plane finally landed. The jolt of the wheels touching down jarred Dorian awake. He sat up, momentarily confused. Then he remembered-- everything. He flicked the window screen up and watched the grass and concrete whip by as the plane slowly came to a stop. 

...and then he saw  _ him:  _ off to the side, standing near another limo, was Halward Pavus. 

Dorian sighed, watching his father come into focus as the plane neared. He looked tired. No doubt Dorian would be blamed for that. He contemplated playing petulant and refusing to leave the plane, but he didn’t want to arrive in Qarinus being carried out of a plane by some thug like a sack of potatoes.

Before the plane had even come to a complete stop, Dorian stood and walked to the door. He quickly twisted the edges of his moustache into place and ran a hand through his hair to ensure he looked as presentable as possible, under the circumstances. As the plane door opened, Dorian stood straight and put his shoulders back. He descended casually, as if he’d chosen to come home of his own free will.

“Father. Fancy seeing you here. Afraid I’d somehow elude your goons?” Dorian smirked, sauntering over to the limo.

“Dorian.” Halward opened one of the doors and gestured.  “We will not do this here. Get in. We will talk when we get home.”

“Where is the fun in that? You know I work so much better with an audience.” Dorian slid into the car, even as he protested. Halward sat across from him, as Crassius had done on the drive to the airport. And like the drive to the airport, the drive to the estate was filled with silence. A heavy, burning silence. 

Dorian wasn’t sure what he expected, but his father’s cool anger wasn’t it. Shouting. He’d expected shouting. Insults. 

Maybe those would come later.

It was nearly an hour before they were driving up the long, tree-lined laneway of the Pavus’ Qarinus estate. Dorian rolled his window down and inhaled deeply. The scent of Jasmine wafted into the limo and Dorian smiled. He closed his eyes and savoured the smell and the sounds of birds. No matter what, Qarinus was home. 

The limo pulled up to a door at the side of the estate. Halward flung the car door open and stepped out. When Dorian didn’t immediately follow, he reached in and grabbed his arm. 

“Come, Dorian.” Halward barked. Dorian rolled his eyes and slid from the car.

“Coming, father.” Dorian sneered.

“Stop being a child, Dorian.” Halward kept his grip on Dorian’s arm and started dragging him toward the front door. Once within, it was to Halward’s study. His mother was waiting for them. Obviously, the intervention was planned to the last detail. 

“We need to have a frank conversation, Dorian.” Halward said flatly.

“Do we? I think we’ve been managing splendidly by not conversing at all.” Dorian pulled his arm free and settled into a plush armchair. He draped an arm over the back and one leg over the arm, attempting to look casual. 

Halward glared while Aquinea just sighed and settled in the chair opposite Dorian. Halward walked over to his desk, scooped up a newspaper, and dropped it on Dorian’s lap.

“What is  _ this _ ?” Halward asked through gritted teeth. 

“A newspaper? I recognize they’ve become increasing scare, what with the internet and all, but surely you can recognize one when you see it,” Dorian quipped.

Ignoring Dorian’s attempt to deflect, Halwad continued, “What is Magister Herathinos going to think? What is Livia going to think? Do you think she’ll want to marry you after this?”

“I don’t think she wanted to marry me  _ before  _ this, to be honest.” Dorian exaggerated a yawn, “And that feeling is mutual.” 

“You will marry her if she’ll still have you,” Aquinea spoke for the first time since Dorian entered the room. Her voice was soft, but that was more threatening than any shouting from his father. 

Dorian snorted. “I have never and will never have any desire to wed or bed that woman. Or, any woman, for that matter.” Dorian stood, letting the paper in his lap fall to the floor.  He wandered over to the large bay window, walking on the tabloid in the process. “In case that little article and a conversation with Crassius hasn’t made you realize, I prefer the company of men.”

“No one cares what you prefer, Dorian,” Halward responded, crossing his arms in an attempt to be more threatening. 

“ _ I _ care,” Dorian turned his back on his parents and looked out the window. It looked onto the artificial pond and stream, which currently accommodated a pair of swans. “Rilienus cares,” he added softly.

“And you think Lord Abrexis is just going to let his only heir run off with you? That you can both just let your lines die off because you would rather spend your time with men?”

“No. But I think Rilienus would if I asked him.” Dorian contemplated that: would he really? 

“You are marrying Livia. End of discussion.” Halward said sternly. 

“Hardly the end of the discussion. I refuse,” Dorian said and marched to the study’s door. “Even if I married her, we’d both be miserable. And you wouldn’t get the grandchildren you most desire. What are you going to do? Force me to drink a love potion that magically makes me want to sleep with women?” 

“You’re a degenerate with no concern for the wellbeing of your family,” Halward sneered. 

“I  _ am  _ concerned. I’m just more concerned about being  _ who I am _ .” Dorian opened the door, glancing back at his parents. “I need sleep. I’ll be in my room if you think of anything else you want to yell at me about.” He stepped out and shut the door behind him.

Even as his insides roiled, Dorian walked to his room, back straight and chin up as if nothing was wrong. He was so emotionally exhausted he climbed into bed in his clothes. As he fell asleep, mind drifting to thoughts of Rilienus, he thought he heard a small  _ snick _ from his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who were nervous were definitely nervous for good reason.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's return to Quarinus is anything but welcoming and the bigotry is palpable.

Dorian shouldn’t have been surprised and yet he was. The small  _ snick _ he’d heard before falling asleep had, in fact, been his bedroom door being locked. Dorian stared at the doorknob with disbelief. He grabbed the knob a second time and gave it a violent twist. 

_ Nothing _ .

“Andraste’s tits,” he grumbled and walked back to his bed. He flopped down on it, resting against the pillows, and waited. His parents couldn’t leave him there unattended forever. If they were so worried about him carrying on the family legacy that they’d force him to marry someone, letting him starve to death seemed counterproductive. 

Resting his back against the headboard and crossing his arms, Dorian sat and stared defiantly at the locked door and waited.

And waited. 

It didn’t take long for boredom to set in. Dorian lounged and tried to keep himself occupied on the bed so if the door opened, he would be there. He fiddled with his nails, pushing his cuticles back and picking at the chipped polish. He twisted and smoothed his moustache and hair, fixing the damage done by a night of poor sleep. 

Finally, as he was sure he was going stir crazy, the door opened. He stopped fussing and quickly crossed his arms.

It was a servant, carrying a tray covered with food. 

Inside, Dorian wanted to scream, but he knew it wasn’t the servant’s fault. He watched the man set the tray on the desk near the door.

Eggs, bacon, toast, fruit. It was meagre fare compared to how he’d been eating at Rilienius’ estate. Nonetheless, Dorian’s stomach growled at the smells. He was so distracted by the food that he didn’t see his opportunity to escape the room until the door was closing behind the retreating servant. 

“Imbecile,” he chided himself. 

For a moment he considered not eating; seeing how long he could go before either he or his parents broke. He considered who had the stronger will: him or his father. He honestly wasn’t sure. After a moment's deliberation and a loud rumble from his stomach, Dorian caved and slid from the bed.

He ate sparingly – just enough to sate his appetite. He wanted to ensure his parents found out he wasn’t taking advantage of their “hospitality”. 

When he was finished, he got up from the desk and walked to the en-suite bathroom. He had discarded the idea of being found looking like a defiant teenager on the bed and moved on to the plan of looking his very best when his father came calling; show how unphased he was by his captivity. 

Dorian ran a bath, rummaging under the sink while it filled. He pulled out a container of goat’s milk and lavender which he added to the stream of hot water. Then he gathered a mirror, his shaving cream kit and his straight razor, setting all but the razor at the corner of the tub. He sat on the edge of the bathtub with a strap and the razor, sharpening it with quick, practised movements before adding it with the other shaving equipment. 

Finally, when the deep tub was filled nearly to the edge, Dorian stripped out of the clothes he’d been wearing since the day before. He tossed them in a pile on the floor, giving his pant leg a kick when it flopped back over in his direction. 

He dipped his toe in tentatively to test the water temperature. It was hot enough that for a moment the sensation was of cold. Dorian stepped the other foot in and slowly sank down into the warmth. Water sloshed over the side, soaking the bathmat and running under the edge of the vanity.

The heat worked on Dorian’s muscles and he relaxed back, closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, the aroma of lavender filling the steam in the room. The bath soothed some of the hurt Dorian felt, a sense of calm and purpose coming over him. He  _ could _ confront his father and he  _ could _ get back to Rilienius, where he belonged.

Dorian let his mind wander to Rilienus. The last image he had was of him sitting on the bathroom floor, battered and bloody with tears streaming down his face. It was not the image he wanted to remember. He felt the pain of the day before well up, a tight ball in his stomach and a burning in his throat. Before he knew it, he felt tears well in his eyes. He didn’t try to stop them.

“Oh amatus,” he sighed, sinking lower in the water until only his nose and forehead remained above. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, using the act to regain control over his emotions. When he could inhale without it catching in his throat, he pushed himself to sitting. 

To give his mind something else to focus on, Dorian grabbed the shaving cream box and brush, dipping the brush in the water and then swirling it over the solid cream. He had always found the act soothing. When there was a lather, he brushed it over his neck, jaw and cheeks. He rinsed his fingers then picked up the mirror in one hand and the straight razor in the other. He gave the razor a moment’s consideration.

When he was a teenager, it might have been dangerous to hold this straight razor--when he was still hiding who he was and deflecting suspicion by getting into trouble in school. When he’d be sent home, once again expelled, and faced his father’s ire. This situation wasn’t much different from those times, except he’d finally admitted to himself who he was; his parents knew, and while they couldn’t accept it, he had found someone who loved him for who he was. 

_ Who he was _ . It felt good to think those words and know inside that he finally knew. And to have said them to his parents… The scrape of the razor felt like a benediction.  It scraped away the hurt and the fear and left only self-affirmation. 

Dorian smiled. Yes. He liked who he was and he was going to live his life as himself, obligations to family be damned. 

When he had cleaned his face of stubble and the water had turned lukewarm, Dorian climbed from the tub. Water squished between his toes as he stepped on the soaked mat and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

Grooming was an art for Dorian and one he enjoyed immensely. He wrapped a towel around his waist and used a washcloth to wipe steam from the mirror above the sink. Then, grabbing a pair of small scissors and a comb, he trimmed and shaped his moustache and eyebrows. Next, it was moisturizer and the combing of his hair. The finishing touches were kohl to line his eyes, done to look a touch smudged, and shimmering powder over his cheekbones to emphasize them. 

His clothes were as carefully chosen. He considered what was in his closet – he had hadn’t been home in months and the options were limited. He selected a red shirt - more for its symbolism than how it fit him – which was paired with black slacks, a black thin tie, and polished shoes. 

As he awaited the arrival of either his father or his lunch, Dorian sat at the desk and redid the black polish on his nails. He couldn’t abide chipped nail polish.

The last coat of polish was drying when the bedroom door opened and in stepped Halward Pavus. 

“Dorian,” Halward said coolly, shutting the door behind him.

“Father.” Dorian leaned casually back in his chair, draping one arm over the back and crossing his legs. 

The men stared at each other in silence. A test of wills of who would start the conversation they both knew they needed to have. After a minute of silence, Halward sighed.

“Your behaviour yesterday was unacceptable. Your behaviour these last few weeks… months… however long this obscenity has been going on, is unacceptable. You must recognize the damage you are doing to your family--to your whole life. How can you want this?”

“It isn’t about what I want, father. It is about what I need. What I  _ am _ . Don’t you think it would be easier for me to simply be the perfect son for you? The perfect little Tevinter Altus with his gorgeous Altus wife and 2.5 perfect children.” Dorian scoffed and stood, pushing the chair in. “But I can’t do that. I can’t be something that I’m not. I don’t  _ want _ to be this way. I was  _ born _ this way. I have always been this way, for as long as I can remember.  _ Accept it _ .”

“It’s just a phase, Dorian,” Halward said with another sigh. “We all go through them when we’re in boarding school or college. When you’re alone, you latch on to anyone who will have you. Then you grow up and do what you know you must to be a productive member of society.”

“This isn’t a phase and the only time I feel alone is when I’m here with  _ you _ .” Dorian turned his back on his father and walked to the bed. He began fixing the sheets and pillowcases. He needed to move. There was too much energy in him and he needed something to expel it.

“If you won’t talk to me sensibly, perhaps you’ll talk to someone else. I’ve asked a doctor who specializes in these types of cases to come speak with you. He’s cured hundreds of people just like you so they can lead normal lives.”

Dorian clenched his fist around the edge of the sheet and twisted. His jaw started to ache from how tightly he was gritting it. “I  _ am _ normal,” he said through his teeth.

“No, Dorian, you are not. You are ill, and we want to help.” Halward opened the door and Dorian glanced over his shoulder to see a man enter. He was thin and angular, like a stork on the Quarinus shores.

“Good afternoon, Dorian.” Even the man’s voice reminded Dorian of a bird. It was quiet and nasal, like he was talking through his nose, not his throat.  

“Dorian, this is Doctor Aurelian Titus. He’s a psychiatrist that specializes in reparative therapy.”

“Reparative therapy?” Dorian arched a brow and snorted. “You’ve wasted a trip, doctor. There is nothing here that needs to be repaired.”

“Your father says otherwise. Tell me, Dorian. Are you happy?” Doctor Titus pulled out the chair Dorian had been sitting in when Halward arrived. He sat, folding his arms loosely in his lap, clearly attempting to look non-threatening.

“Right this very instant? No, doctor. I cannot say I  _ am _ happy. However, I highly doubt you could cure the cause of my displeasure,” Dorian responded, turning his back on the bed to face Titus.

“Perhaps, but how can you know if you do not talk to me about what is causing your pain?”

There was a moment of uncertainty for Dorian. There was a tiny kernel of validity to what the man said. Dorian didn’t want to be cured in the sense his father meant it, but he was unhappy. He’d spent most of his life unhappy. Perhaps…

“And that is all? We  _ talk  _ and somehow you help me be happy?”

“Well it isn’t always that simple, but sometimes – yes. We talk and you feel better. That’s the simplest way to put it.” Titus smiled. Perhaps it was supposed to be warm, but it didn’t fit his face, like he was wearing a mask. Dorian didn’t like it. He didn’t like him. But maybe if he played along for a bit, his father would let him leave.

“Fine,” Dorian said and sat on the edge of his bed. “We can talk. Without  _ him _ .” He pointed at Halward.

“Of course, of course.” Titus made a shooing motion in Halward’s direction. “Come back in an hour, please.”

Halward glanced between Dorian and Doctor Titus. There was a moment of hesitation and Dorian could almost see the thoughts whirling behind Halward’s eyes as he tried to figure out Dorian’s game.  _ Good _ . Let him wonder.

When they were alone, Titus shifted in his chair, stretching out into a more casual position. 

“Tell me, Dorian, what is it making you unhappy.”

It was hard for Dorian to find the words. The first ones to jump to mind were  _ My father _ or  _ Being stuck here _ . Both reasons were part of the truth but…

“I am part of two worlds at war,” Dorian said finally. 

“Can you elaborate?” Titus asked, soft and inviting. He was able to make it sound like he really wanted to know. 

“I’ve always felt torn between who I feel I am and the world I was born into. There are these expectations around who I am, how I’m supposed to act, what I’m supposed to accomplish, and they don’t match with what I feel I want. Who I want to be. Who I truly am.”

As Dorian spoke it was hard to keep his voice even and conversational, but he managed it.  _ Inside  _ he could feel the war. He felt the pressure of his parents’ and society’s expectations, of their disappointment and their hurt. He felt the fear and anger he’d been experiencing since he first realized he liked boys over a decade before. 

“And who are you, Dorian?”  

_ Who are you? _ Three simple words with such a huge weight behind them. Did he know? He spouted off like he knew--like it was a solid, clear thing. 

“I am an intelligent, creative, ambitious, handsome man who enjoys the company of other intelligent and handsome men.” 

“And how do you know you don’t also like the company of women?”

Another simple question that felt hard to answer. 

“I don’t know. How do you know you wouldn’t like being stabbed in the eye? You just… do. There’s an innate feeling of fear for your safety.”

“Are you afraid of women, Dorian?”

That was too much. Dorian started laughing. It was quiet at first, but quickly bloomed into a full-body laugh. All the stress and fear and anger poured out of him in that laugh. He couldn’t stop.

Doctor Titus sat patiently until Dorian’s laughter petered off. He seemed unperturbed by the outburst. 

“Why was that so funny, Dorian? Can you tell me?”

“Well, I am afraid of some women. Have you met my mother? She’s terrifying. I think even my father is afraid of her.” Dorian smirked. “And Maevaris Tilani is a force of nature when you get in her way. Absolutely terrifying.”

Dorian was being flippant now. He’d tried playing the game. Part of him wanted talking to this man to take away some of the doubts and pain he’d been experiencing... but no. The man was a useless quack and Dorian was tired.

“Maevaris Tilani is not a woman, and therefore does not count.”

“Pardon me?” Dorian bristled at that comment.

“Altus Tilani is a man. He was born a man and will forever be a man. His need to wear dresses and makeup is the sign of a sick mind. He needs help. Help his family didn’t get him before the condition became so serious. That’s why your father called me, Dorian. To help prevent you from spiralling into such confusion.”

There was a choked noise, which Dorian realized afterwards came from him. He stood from the bed and took a step towards Titus. “Maevaris is as much a woman as any other woman. She is a beautiful, successful, charming person and her worth is ten times your own.”

“Dorian,” Titus chided. “Sit down, please. We are just chatting here. All opinions are valid.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. He may have been struggling to stand up for himself, but his friend was another matter entirely. “Opinions? No. You don’t get to decide who someone  _ is  _ because it is your opinion. A person gets to decide for themselves who they are, and you need to accept that. Mae knows who she is and has embraced her true self. She is not sick; she is happy and vibrant.” Dorian took a deep breath and continued. “I  _ know _ who I am.  Regardless of your opinions, I will always be a gay man. I am happily a gay man. My sexuality isn’t what makes me unhappy. The homophobia running rampant through this country makes me unhappy. My parents’ inability to let me  _ be myself  _ makes me unhappy.”

There was a pause in the rant as Dorian inhaled again. “And most of all, I’m unhappy that there are enough bigots and scared people in this world that you even exist.”   

“Dorian…”

“No. Enough. Get out,” Dorian said in a clipped tone. 

“Dorian, I think it would be healthy if you continued to talk about what it is upsetting you. If we can get to the root of-“

“I said  _ out _ ,” Dorian hissed menacingly. 

Titus stood and casually pushed his chair in against the desk. He turned to face Dorian and held out his hand. “It was a pleasure to mee--“

“Out!” Dorian shouted, grabbing the only thing in reach – his pillow – and whipping it at Titus’ head.

There were no niceties or hesitation now. Titus scurried to the door and knocked.  _ Knocked _ . Dorian’s visitor had to be let out by a guard as if he truly was in prison. 

Dorian stood glaring until the door closed behind Titus’ fleeing form then he crumpled to the bed. He grabbed the second pillow from the head of the bed and pressed it over his face. And screamed. And screamed until his voice was raw and he could think of nothing more than to sleep forever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Treatment" ramps up for Dorian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an uncomfortable chapter. I apologize now.

Dorian spent the next week confined to his room with only the servants, his father, and Doctor Titus for company. Meals were delivered three times a day. When the servants entered and exited, Dorian could see a guard standing near the door--another hired goon put there to keep Dorian in his place. At first, Dorian talked through the door encouraging his captors to release him. Or bring him wine. Or smuggle him a cellphone.  _ Anything _ . But nothing worked. His pleas were always met with silence.

Halward checked in once a day, right before dinner, to see if Dorian had changed his mind. If he cooperated, he’d be let out and allowed to take his meals in the dining room with his parents like a  _ civilized person _ . 

Dorian felt civility had long since been thrown out the window and declined the invitation each evening. Each day Halward seemed more and more agitated. 

Doctor Titus, on the other hand, somehow remained calm in the face of Dorian’s obstinance. The two men performed a sort of dance, where Titus would ask questions and prompt Dorian to talk about his homosexuality and Dorian would provide useless, flippant answers. No real progress was made on either side. Nothing Dorian did or said seemed to dissuade him. Though, messing with the man had almost become the highlight of Dorian’s day. 

The only saving grace of being confined to his room was the small bookshelf that had always been a fixture there. Dorian couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have at least one book at hand. So, to pass the time between visits, he read. 

He re-read novels he’d read in high school: classics and random fiction. He read textbooks from college: books on psychology, pathology, and philosophy. He read the Tevinter-Orlesian dictionary as he read one of the novels he knew by heart, translating it aloud to himself. 

His nail polish changed four times in another attempt to keep himself occupied. He slept… and masturbated… like a sixteen-year-old. What else was he supposed to do with his time? 

On the sixth day, as he was reorganizing his bookshelf using the Antivan method of categorization, his door opened. Dorian looked up from his task, confused at the deviation from his usual daily visitor schedule. 

It was Halward.

Purposefully, Dorian shifted so his back was to the door, and continued with his task. 

“Dorian,” Halward said in a warning tone. 

“ _ Dorian _ ,” Halward repeated in a sharp bark.

With an exaggerated sigh, Dorian set a book down and turned. “Yes, father?” he asked innocently.

“Come with me.”

“Oh! Am I finally being released? Was it because of my good behavior? I  _ have _ been ever so good. Just sitting here. Alone. With nothing to do for  _ days _ .” Dorian stood and dusted off his pants. 

“You brought this on yourself.” Halward turned and walked out the door, which was left open behind him.

“My freedom? Well, good to know. I wish I knew exactly what I did,” Dorian chattered, even as his stomach dropped and a chill ran down his spine.

Dorian walked casually to the door, even though all his nerves screamed  _ run _ . He peered out, looking down the hallway in both directions. His father stood a few steps down to the left, and his guard still stood to the right of the door. As he stepped into the hallway, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something wasn’t right.

“You know what, father dearest? I find I am not feeling very well today. I think I shall go back to bed.” He stepped towards his bedroom door; the guard reached out and blocked him with one muscular arm. 

“I think not,” Halward said, turning his back on Dorian and walking down the hallway. “Follow me.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Dorian glanced back at the guard who prevented him from fleeing. He thought maybe he could take the man, before realizing what a ridiculous notion that was. What could really be so bad that he’d need to run from his own father? Dorian took a deep breath and marched after his father, back straight and shoulders squared. 

They took a narrow set of stairs down two levels to the basement, the guard always one step behind Dorian. He was led to the entertainment room where he glanced around, thoroughly confused. 

The room had been rearranged: where the plush recliners normally sat, now something resembling a dentist’s chair had taken up residence. There was a small stool on wheels nearby and a metal table with what looked like an old radio sitting upon it. 

Dorian took a step back, immediately bumping into the thick frame of his silent guard. He tried to sidestep around the man, but was grabbed by the shoulder and hauled back. 

“Dorian! How lovely to see you again,” Doctor Titus said as he stepped into the room, drying his hands with paper towel. He tossed the used towel on the metal table. “Would you please have a seat?”

“I think I’d rather not,” Dorian responded, eyeing the chair warily.

“I am afraid you have no choice, Dorian.” Halward nodded and the guard began dragging Dorian towards the chair. 

“Father? What is going on?” Dorian struggled to free himself. It was useless, the man’s grip was like iron. 

“Since you won’t talk to Doctor Titus, you have forced us to turn to more drastic treatment options.”

“When talk therapy fails, we turn to aversion therapy,” Doctor Titus said as he sat on the stool.

Dorian blanched; he knew the term. He glanced at the metal table again and realized what he’d taken for a radio was instead meant to produce electricity to shock him. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Dorian said quickly, increasing his thrashing to break free of the guard’s grip. “Perhaps we should talk?”

“Too late for that.” Halward grabbed Dorian’s other arm and helped the guard lift him onto the chair. He was promptly strapped in, wrists secured to the armrests and a restraint pulled tight across his chest. It was suddenly hard to breathe.   

“Have you gone insane?” Dorian stared at his father incredulously. Halward had never been the warmest man, but he’d never been  _ abusive _ . There was no explanation Dorian could think of to explain what had convinced Halward to treat him this way. His only son – tortured.

“No, my boy.  _ You’re  _ the one with mental problems. We are just trying to help make you better.” Halward squeezed Dorian’s bicep. He looked despondent.  _ Lost _ . Then the look was gone, as was any other. Halward’s faced seemed to turn to stone as he looked at Titus and said, “He is all yours.”

Halward walked quickly away, leaving the bodyguard behind. Dorian shouted and pleaded as Halward’s footfalls became fainter and fainter. Nothing. He tugged at his wrist restraints and squirmed in the chair.  _ Nothing _ . 

“Now Dorian,” Titus said, sliding the stool over to the chair. “It will be easier for everyone if you just remain calm.”

“Calm? I’m about to be tortured at the behest of my own father and you want me to remain  _ calm _ ?” Dorian stared at Titus in disbelief. Everyone had gone insane except him. There must be something in the water in Qarinus that was driving everyone mad.  

“You are not being tortured, Dorian. This is a medically acceptable treatment for perversions.”

“Only _barbarians_ would consider electrocuting someone to be an acceptable form of medical treatment,” Dorian scoffed. “You can’t really be serious?”

But he was.

Titus rolled up Dorian’s right sleeve and pressed small, round patches to the inside of his arm.  These were connected to wires leading to the mechanical box on the table. Dorian watched, unable to fully comprehend that Titus and his father were actually going through with the process. He felt numb, his fingers tingling as if his arms had fallen asleep. He thought maybe it was a threat. That he’d call their bluff… but no.

When Dorian was hooked up to the machine, Titus grabbed a remote and turned on the screen that took up the entire wall in front of Dorian’s chair. There was immediately a picture on the screen. A picture of two naked men, one bent over the side of a bed while the other was fucking him. 

Dorian gasped. Not in enjoyment, but in complete shock. He now understood why his father had fled. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to see his son tortured, no, it was likely because he didn’t want to be exposed to homosexual images.  _ He didn’t want to risk the corruption spreading to him _ , Dorian thought.

He turned his head away and was met by Doctor’s Titus’ intense stare. Turning his head the opposite way, he was greeted with the machine meant to electrocute him. There was nowhere he could look. He swallow down panic threatening to consume him.

The first image had changed and was replaced by that of a handsome man lounging naked in a chair stroking himself. Then that became a man receiving a blow job. There were dozens of different images that slowly cycled through on the screen. All erotic. All extremely graphic. All intended to arouse Dorian. And despite his best efforts, it was working.

Dorian’s mind was reeling, and he struggled to focus. He tried to think of topics that were decidedly not arousing – abscesses, baseball, laundry, the horrid man from the bathroom of the club…but his body seemed determined to respond to the imagery despite his mental exercises. He felt his cock hardening and let out a frustrated groan. 

Titus must have either taken the noise as arousal or noticed the growing bulge in Dorian’s pants, for he administered the first shock. It was more starling than painful. What hurt was the realization that he was actually going to be tortured--that his own family would see him shocked into submission rather than accept him for who he was. 

That first shock was mild. The next shock was at the edge of painful. The sensation lingered after the electricity had stopped. Dorian turned his head and glared defiantly at Titus. 

Titus administered a third shock and Dorian grunted. It left an itchy feeling that Dorian longed to scratch. He pulled futilely at the wrist restraints.

The fourth shock made his stomach clench and he had to grit his teeth. It did its job. The blood drained away from his groin and he was given a break from the shocks--but not the images. He squeezed his eyes shut.

When he stopped watching, the rotation of pictures was replaced with clips of pornographic movies. Moans and the slapping of skin filled the room -- a room designed for acoustics. Even without seeing the images, Dorian’s body responded to the sounds. 

The next set of shocks started at a higher intensity and by the fourth Dorian thought he was going to vomit. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from giving Titus the gratification of hearing him cry out. His body mercifully obeyed and his cock went flaccid. 

For a few minutes there were no shocks and then the cycle repeated itself. 

_ And again _ . 

It seemed like each time the shocks were stronger, but that might have been increased sensitivity caused by the previous shocks. After the fourth set of shocks, Dorian felt weak and dizzy. He thought he was going to pass out. 

When the screen finally went dark and the room fell quiet, Dorian’s shirt was soaked with sweat and his mouth tasted of copper and acid. He turned his head weakly and spat on the floor, just missing Titus’ shoes. 

“You’ll feel better in the morning,” Titus said, unbuckling Dorian’s restraints. He stepped away for a moment, leaving Dorian to clumsily rub feeling back into his wrists and hands.  Titus came back with a glass of water, which he offered to Dorian. 

It was tempting. Dorian eyed the water longingly, but he wouldn’t take it. He’d take nothing from the man that had spent an hour torturing him in the name of treatment. He shook his head and swatted the glass from Titus’ hand and grinned when he heard it smash on the floor.

“We will continue treatments tomorrow. Perhaps you will be more cooperative once you’ve had time to think.” Titus sighed and grabbed a book from the metal table and offered it to Dorian. “Reading to help you understand.”

Dorian tried to laughed as he read the title, but it came out as a weak wheeze.

_ My Ex-Gay Life: How Conversion Therapy Saved My Life _

His guard had to help  him stand from the chair. Dorian felt like his legs were asleep. He stumbled as he took a step and had to be held up. He hated it. After three steps he shook the guard off. While it was a shuffle more than a walk, Dorian managed to make his way back to his room on his own. He dragged a hand along the wall to keep himself steady.

As the bedroom door was opened and Dorian ushered through, the smell of roasted beef and gravy hit him. His stomach turned and Dorian swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. He stood still until the door was closed behind him and then immediately stumbled into the bathroom. 

He fell to his knees in front of the toilet, hard enough that the tile was sure to leave bruises. He flung up the lid, clutched the bowl, and proceed to vomit. He continued to retch until there was nothing left in his stomach, then again after that. His throat burned from the stomach acid and his belly ached. 

As the retching stopped, the tears started. Dorian slid down to lay on the cold floor, hugging his knees to his chest, and sobbed. The salt in the tears stung his cracked lips and each gasping sob brought new pain to his throat. He told himself the tears were caused by exhaustion--by the ebbing of the adrenaline that had flooded his body during the shocks. While those were no doubt part of the cause, his father’s betrayal hurt more than he’d admit. 

While they’d had their issues, Dorian had idolized his father. He was a successful, strong man. Respected in Tevinter society. He had even been proud of Dorian when he always surpassed his classmates in school. They’d never had a warm relationship, but it had never truly been hostile. 

That changed the moment Dorian was taken to that room and strapped to a chair. 

The betrayal changed to a deep, seething anger. Dorian wasn’t sure what role his mother played in all of it, but he no longer cared. She couldn’t be oblivious and the fact that she was allowing it to happen was enough. Dorian was determined to escape and cut all ties with his family, even if it meant living in poverty. Perhaps, Rilienus truly would run away with Dorian,perhaps to somewhere warm and more accepting like Antiva. 

“Rilienus,” Dorian sighed, rolling to face away from the toilet. He squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Rilienus’ face. He imaged the slight curl to his lip as he smiled. The soft, secret touches as they ate in a restaurant and the passionate kisses when they were alone. He wanted to lay there forever, lost in the memories of the man he loved. 

The foul taste in Dorian’s mouth eventually convinced him to stand. He pushed slowly off the floor, using the toilet for leverage. While the pain from the shocks had dissipated, his whole body ached like he had a fever. His muscles felt weak and complained at each movement.  He hobbled to the sink and splashed water on his face before mustering the strength to brush his teeth.

Mouth and throat washed clean, Dorian made his way unsteadily to bed. The dinner laid out on the desk taunted him. He knew he should try eating, but if he did it would just be another thing to throw up. He undressed slowly, movements clumsy, and climbed under the duvet. The cool sheets helped soothe his worn nerves and he relaxed back into the mattress.  

As he drifted off, Titus’ words came back to him: “We will continue treatments tomorrow.”

Dorian rubbed his forearm where the electrodes had been, curling up tighter. He wasn’t sure he could survive another treatment. And if he didn’t relent at the second, would there be a third? He suddenly felt cold. 

The hot tears returned. Dorian felt them course down his cheeks and soak into the pillow case. He pulled the duvet up to cover his head and let the sobbing and despair take him. His strength was gone. The fight was gone. He didn’t know how he was going to face tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How far will Halward go to bend Dorian to his will?

Dorian woke to find everything hurt. He groaned as he rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. It smelled of rancid sweat and he wrinkled his nose, pushing up onto one elbow. He shuffled up to a sitting position, muscles complaining at each movement, and leaned against the headboard.  

The fog of sleep cleared slowly; he felt groggy and disoriented. The day before was a blur. _Was it real_? He rubbed his forearm absently as the memories filtered back to him. His stomach clenched and Dorian was suddenly afraid he’d throw up again.

He pushed off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, sitting awkwardly on the cold tile and clutching the toilet bowl. He rested his chin on the edge and winced – it was bruised from the violent retching the night before. His stomach roiled and he heaved into the bowl… nothing. The action made his abdomen ache and it was all he could do to swallow down a threatening sob. He’d cried enough. Now it was time for anger.

Using the simmering rage deep in his gut, Dorian pushed himself to standing. He turned on the shower and stripped out of his sweat-soaked clothing. Stepping into the scalding water, he relished the burn – a pain he could control.

For the first few minutes, Dorian let the water run. He closed his eyes and bent his head into the spray. The longer he stood in the shower, the more the water and steam renewed him. It washed away the previous day and gave him back some strength. When he was sure he could move without stumbling, he grabbed the soap and washed himself clean. He felt soiled in more than one way.

After his shower, Dorian performed his usual morning activities – shaving, moisturizing, makeup – to help him feel his best. To help him feel _normal_.

His clothing choice followed the same rationale – he chose a pink t-shirt that clung just so and tight black jeans. He turned and admired himself in the mirror. The outfit was sure to set his father off, which was part of the plan. If he was going to be punished for being gay, he might as well up the flare.

While he’d been showering, the dinner tray from the night before had been replaced with a cold breakfast of yogurt and granola. Dorian considered it thoughtfully. He knew he’d be going through the same ordeal later that day, so food may not be the best choice… but at the same time, he couldn’t starve himself.

After more consideration than a normal person would give a bowl of granola, Dorian sat down at the desk and ate. He ate slowly, his stomach rebelling at the first spoonfuls. The more he consumed, the calmer his stomach became. He tried a small sip of the coffee;  it was lukewarm, but did wonders for Dorian’s mind.

As he ate, Dorian contemplated how to handle his predicament. He knew he wasn’t going to be changed by the torture his father had arranged. He didn’t _want_ to change. Which meant finding a way out of it — out of Qarinus.

The guard at the door made that exit automatically void. Dorian may have been fit, but he wasn’t going to be able to take the strong man his father had hired to ensure he remained in captivity. That left either the windows or managing an escape while already out of his room.

When he was finished eating, Dorian wandered over to his window and looked down. He was only on the second floor, which meant a jump wouldn’t kill him… though broken bones were a likely hazard. He glanced over at the bed, considering the old movie trope of tying bedsheets together and attaching them to the bedpost to shimmy out the window. It was really the only plan he had.

After nightfall, he’d try his escape.

Plan in place, Dorian set about packing up essentials. He would need his toiletries, whatever jewellery he could manage, his wallet… he wished he had his phone.

At the thought of his phone, Dorian stopped stuffing a shirt in his bag and sat heavily on the bed. His phone was with Rilienus. Rilienus, who he’d promised he would call to let him know he was safe. Who was probably panicking because Dorian hadn’t found a way to let him know he was well. First thing he’d do upon finding freedom was contact Rilienus and let him know he was okay. Or, as okay as he could be after his father’s betrayal.

There was a rattle at the door and Dorian quickly shoved the bag under the bed and leaned back casually. His father entered, guard close behind him.

“Father, dearest, how nice of you to visit me. Care for some… oh wait, I have nothing to offer you, seeing as I’m being held hostage in my bedroom. My apologies.” Dorian smirked.

Halward rolled his eyes and sighed. “Come along Dorian; it’s time for your treatment.”

“I am really feeling much better, father. I’m sure we don’t need another tor-- treatment.” Dorian had to force the word out and swallowed back bile.

“Dorian, stop playing games and come with me.”

As Halward stepped back into the hallway, the guard approached the bed. Dorian gave a loud sigh, intended to reach his father’s ears, and pushed himself off the bed. He still wasn’t feeling back to himself and he wasn’t sure how a second session was going to go, but there was no point in resisting. He’d likely be thrown over the guard’s shoulder and carried kicking and screaming to the basement. Might as well save some dignity. He could endure. He must.

The second session went much the way of the first. Dorian was better able to suppress his baser urges this time and received fewer shocks. He considered that a victory. So, did Dr Titus.  Dorian was released after forty-five minutes of pornography and shocks, and once again helped to his room.

Dorian collapsed, back against the door, the moment the guard pulled it shut behind him. He sank slowly to the floor, staring off into space. His mind had wandered during the session to protect himself and he found it hard to come back to the moment. Honestly, he didn’t _want_ to come back to reality — it had become pain and anger and disappointment.

There was a small part of the rage he felt that was directed at himself for being so weak. Too weak to resist reacting to the images, too weak to survive the shocks without nearly turning into an invalid.

When he was once again able to focus, he found he was shivering. He didn’t feel cold, per se, but he couldn’t stop his body from shaking. He eyed his bed – the sheets – contemplating his escape plan. He pushed himself up, using the door as support as he rose to his feet, and realized he was in no condition to climb down anything. The only climbing he’d be doing was into bed.

Shedding his clothes with clumsy fingers, Dorian made his way over to the bed. He slid under the duvet with a grateful sigh. His sheets needed desperately to be changed but he was still thankful for the comforting weight of his duvet and the way the bedding warmed around him. He pulled the blankets up to just below his chin, burrowing deeper. The shivering didn’t stop. Dorian curled into himself, clutching his knees to his chest.

Despite how exhausted his body felt, his mind wouldn’t shut down. As he closed his eyes to attempt sleep, Dorian was met with flashes of the images Dr Titus had used during the session. A rotating show of young, attractive men in various stages of undress and sexual activity. Dorian felt his cock stirring as he was bombarded with the images and he winced, anticipating a shock.

Of course, none came.

Dorian had thought the treatment nothing but torture but he suddenly saw how it could be effective. It wasn’t that it somehow made a gay man attracted to women. No. What it did was make a gay man afraid of men — of the pain associated with homosexuality. Dorian hated that it was working.

Almost in defiance, he focused on the images flashing in his mind and took his hardening cock in his hand. He was hesitant, like a boy touching himself for the first time. His body rebelled initially, afraid of the pain that should surely follow, but when none came he was able to relax into it. Savour the feeling of his hand gliding over his skin. Of his foreskin sliding up over the head of his cock.

It wasn’t long before the anonymous men morphed into the image of Rilienus. Dorian could see him, standing by the bed in all his glory, stroking himself as Dorian admired him. Dorian moaned.

He tightened his grip, stroking faster. He focused on Rilienus’ beautiful face and the soft noises he made when Dorian took him in his mouth. Of the taste of his kisses and the feel of his hair between his fingers. Of the warm flutter in his chest when Rilienus called his name or smiled at him.

The shivers from before morphed into small shudders as Dorian swiped and twisted his thumb over the tip of his cock. He remembered the first time he and Rilienus had been together. It had been an awkward hand job in the cloakroom during an acquaintance’s party. But for all its awkwardness, Dorian remembered it now with fondness. There was a warmth in his belly that mixed with desire. A feeling he only experienced with Rilienus. He focused on that feeling as he gasped Rilienus’ name.  

He was so close to the edge when his door burst open.

“Dorian Pavus!”

Dorian jolted and released himself, grabbing the duvet and holding tightly.

One of the most embarrassing things to have happen to someone is being caught masturbating by a parent. In Dorian’s case, this was compounded by the very real fear of repercussion. He felt himself going flaccid as he moved his hand away. He opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of his father, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable, glaring at him from the doorway.

“Come with me. _Now_ ,” Halward said through clenched teeth.

“Mind if I put some pants on?” Dorian quipped, trying to swallow the fear welling up inside.

“Please do. You have one minute.” Halward turned and walked back into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

Slipping out of bed, Dorian shuddered. When he picked his pants up off the floor, he found he was shaking. He couldn’t control his body’s reaction to the fear. What _else_ were they going to do to him?

When he was dressed, Dorian found Halward waiting stoically in the hallway. His face was a mask, but Dorian didn’t miss the white knuckles of his clenched fists. He was honestly surprised Halward didn’t try to hit him. He wouldn’t put anything past Halward at this point.

They walked silently to the basement. Dorian was led, once again, to the chair and made to sit. He no longer had the energy to fight against it. He was not immediately strapped in and that, oddly, was more concerning. He glanced over to his father, who was standing off to one side, watching Dorian.

“Finally decided to get your hands dirty, father? Going to see if I’ll change when you perform the treatments?” Dorian retained his usual flippant tone and was gratified to see the muscles of Halward’s jaw twitch.

“We are awaiting the return of doctor Titus. He warned us this sort of thing might happen.”

“ _This sort of thing,”_ Dorian spat out, _“_ is a completely natural act. You can’t tell me you’ve never done it.”

“Not while thinking of another man, no. I am not a deviant. Unlike my only son.” Halward sighed sadly. “Why must we do this dance Dorian? Why can’t you just curb your appetites and marry into a good family? Take a lover on the side, if you must, but marry and have children. That’s the natural order of things. That’s how we carry on the Pavus line. Do you really want it to stop at you?” Halward spoke passionately. It was then that Dorian realized he really _did_ mean every word. He honestly thought he was doing the correct thing. Dorian felt sick all over again.

“Since the current Pavuses are apparently sadists and deviants, perhaps it is best the line stops at me. We’re a perverted family that has no right to continue to affect Tevinter society.” Dorian turned to look at the blank screen. “Now where is the lovely doctor? I would very much like to get my torture over with.”

There was silence from Halward. Dorian crossed his arms and waited. He tried to keep the anxiety at bay, clenching and unclenching his fists. When Titus arrived, announcing himself with a ‘It’s so good you called me, Magister Pavus,’ Dorian jumped. He was disgusted at himself for the reaction.

“Now Dorian,” Titus walked over to the front of the chair and regarded Dorian dispassionately. “Since the shocks are apparently not sufficient, we will move on to pharmacological methods.”

“Dare I inquire?” Dorian licked his lips, suddenly finding his mouth dry.

“Just do as you’re told Dorian,” Halward said from somewhere to his left. Dorian couldn’t bring himself to even look at his father. He was afraid it would be enough to make him scream — or cry.

“It’s just a little injection,” Titus said as he prepared a syringe. Dorian watched with a mix of fascination and horror. He jerked his arm away when Titus grabbed it, but quickly found himself pinned down by his guard.

Dorian barely felt the needle. He was already trying to separate mind from body. He was pulled back to reality when a wave of nausea ran through him.

The images from earlier in the day were replayed. Dorian lay in the chair, feeling like if he moved at all he would throw up. Eventually, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He leaned over and retched over the side of the chair, into a bucket that had been placed there at some point. He didn’t remember seeing someone do that. Nor did he remember hearing his father leave, but as he wiped the vomit from his lips, he realized Halward was gone. Once again, too much of a coward to remain and watch his son be tortured.

After he’d thrown up half a dozen times, Dorian was escorted back to his room, weak and aching. This time, he had to be guided all the way to the bed. The taste of vomit haunted him and he choked back more. He was too weak to make it to the bathroom and refused to wake up in his own vomit. With sheer will, he swallowed back a rolling wave of nausea.

It didn’t take long for Dorian to fall into a dreamless sleep. Both body and mind exhausted from fighting. He shivered as he drifted off, clutching the blankets tight to his body.

 

* * *

 

 

 The treatments continued for weeks. They weren’t all torture. Some were just talk. Titus needed to assess Dorian for changes. He’d ask him questions or show him photos and wait for a response. Dorian’s fight quickly left him. He didn’t have the energy for sarcasm or misdirection. He didn’t have the wherewithal to make his escape. He was slowly worn and beaten down until he only saw one way out – to give up.

It hurt, the idea of betraying himself — betraying Rilienus. But what other choice was there? He fought with himself daily, until one day a decision was made for him. He’d been deposited in his room and crumbled to the floor against the door. He could hear his father talking through the door with Titus.

Dorian pressed against the door, listening closely. The voices were muffled but understandable.

“There is always chemical castration. It’s a last resort but seeing as the therapy isn’t working…”

“Is it reversible? Will it affect his ability to produce children?”

“It is reversible. The effects will wear off once injections cease. However, while on the medication it is unlikely he’ll be able to conceive children, even if he wanted to. This will take away the desire to be with anyone – man or woman – and allow him to lead an otherwise normal life.”

 _Normal life_?

The idea of being essentially sterilized made Dorian numb. He couldn’t believe his father would go along with the idea. Wasn’t the whole point reproduction?

“You can always blame the lack of children on her.” He heard Titus say.

Poor Livia. It was bad enough they were going to coerce Dorian into a world he didn’t want to be part of, but to manipulate her as well? To stigmatize her to save the Pavus name? Every day Dorian became more and more appalled at his father.

The voices grew fainter as the men wandered off, and Dorian climbed to his feet. Like every night after a session, he made his way unsteadily to his bed and collapsed into it. But unlike previous nights, _this_ time he had a plan. After weeks of being tortured, he knew how to gain his freedom.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian enacts his escape plan.

Dorian had to beg his father to arrange the dinner. Halward probably suspected some sort of ploy, yet, he couldn’t say no on the off-chance Dorian was sincere — on the chance the treatments had finally worked, and Dorian was willing to marry Livia with no more protests.

Let Halward hope. 

In reality, Dorian was desperate for a way out. After weeks of being tortured, Dorian was out of time. A dinner with Livia and Magister Herathinos seemed, to Dorian, to be an excellent opportunity to run away. Halward couldn’t have Dorian under obvious guard if he wanted Livia to submit to a marriage offer. He’d even, hopefully, allow Dorian and Livia to have some time alone. 

What Dorian would  _ do  _ with that time, he hadn’t quite decided. Would he ask for assistance? Would he simply walk away from her? Come up with a ploy so she wouldn’t suspect until he was far enough his father could no longer get to him? Some things were hard to plan ahead of time. Dorian was adaptable; he’d make use of whatever advantage appeared in the moment.

He’d been given strict instructions on how to act and dress. Nail polish was a no. Eyeliner was a no. He felt lucky he was allowed access to his moustache wax. He felt naked without the make-up and it did nothing to soothe his nerves. He dressed in a plain, yet stylish, black suit with a purple shirt and silver tie that played up his eyes. He was nervously fixing his windsor for the second time when there was a knock on his door.

“Magister Pavus begs you to attend to him immediately,” a servant called through the door.

“Tell him I will be there momentarily,” Dorian responded. 

Dorian turned to the left and then the right, admiring himself in the full-length mirror.

“You’ll do.” He nodded to himself. He grabbed his wallet off the dresser and shoved it in a hidden pocket on the inside of his jacket. He glanced around his room, hoping it was the last time he’d see the place -- hoping and fearing. It was one of the rooms he’d grown up in. There were good memories in the room. It was home. 

Dorian sighed and walked to the door. 

While the guard had been given time off during the dinner, that would only start once Dorian had been deposited in his father’s study. Dorian flashed his most charming smile at the ever-silent monstrosity that was his guard and marched confidently down the hall. 

Inside the study, Halward leaned against his desk, scrolling through his tablet. He was dressed in his best suit, all black with just a touch of red with his tie. The color of power. Halward’s – hell, Tevinter’s – favorite color. He glanced up as Dorian entered the room and set the tablet lightly on the desk.

“Dorian! Don’t you look handsome. All ready for tonight?” Halward put on very fake cheer. But fake was what they did in the Pavus family. 

Dorian turned on the charm as well and grinned at his father. “Oh yes, quite ready.” 

“Excellent,” Halward said as he strode across the room to Dorian. He set his hand on Dorian’s arm and squeezed tightly. He leaned in close and said through his teeth, “You will be on your best behavior. You will ingratiate yourself with Magister Herathinos and his daughter, and you will do your duty as a son of the Pavus House.”

The grip tightened and Dorian had to keep himself from squirming. His father’s warm breath on his neck made his skin crawl and he wanted desperately to pull away -- to run. But he controlled the urge. He kept the grin, as strained as it might be, and responded. “Why father, of course I will be on my best behavior. I am the one who requested this dinner, why ever would I sabotage it?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Halward muttered as he released Dorian and gave him a slightly shove towards the door. “They should be arriving shortly, come on.” 

Halward moved past Dorian and marched out the door, not looking back. Dorian set his shoulders back and followed his father to the foyer of the mansion, ready to greet his distractions.

The tension was palpable as the two men waited for the doors to open and admit the Herathinos family. As the door swung inward, pushed open by a servant, Dorian let out a sigh. He was surprised to find he felt grateful for the arrival of their guests. 

Magister Herathinos entered first. He was in a deep blue suit with a white shirt and enough jewelry to feed a family for a year: rings on most fingers, gold chains around his neck, earrings glittering in his ears-- completely ostentatious. Dorian had to bite back a snide comment – the man looked like a crime boss from a bad gangster movie. 

In contrast, Livia gave no outward signs of her wealth, at least not unless you were familiar with the work of Tevinter fashion designers. Which, of course, Dorian was. Her dress – a lovely A-line gown of fuchsia – probably cost more than the jewelry on her father’s hands. She looked gorgeous, the gown emphasizing the blush on her cheeks, which drew the eye to her dimples. Her dark skin shone, no doubt due to the application of the same type of shimmering powder Dorian favored. 

“Magister Herathinos, Livia – welcome!” Halward smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He stepped forward, hand outstretched to Magister Herathinos.  

“Pavus!” Herathinos replied, shaking Halward’s hand. Dorian noticed the smile slide slightly when Herathinos didn’t use Halward’s title in return. It brought him secret joy.

“Livia, my dear, you look resplendent.” Halward drew Livia into a loose embrace and kissed both her cheeks. As he stepped back, he stepped to the side and motioned Dorian forward. “Doesn’t she, Dorian?”

“You grow lovelier by the moment, Livia.” Dorian parroted the embrace and kisses, trying to throw as much affection into them as he could fake. 

“Always the flatterer.” Livia laughed, a light and delicate sound, but mirthless.

_ Tevinter: where all emotions are faked _ . 

Obligatory pleasantries completed, Halward ushered his guests and Dorian to the dining room. 

Like everything in the Pavus house, the dining room was tasteful, yet demonstrated their wealth. The table was large, easily seating a dozen people. It was lit from above by two crystal chandeliers, which matched the sconces on the wall. There was expensive art on the walls and a grand piano on a small stage at one end. 

Dorian remembered parties held when he was younger – a band, dancing, laughter. Now he wondered how much of that was show. How much happiness had been faked to further some cause — just like the dinner tonight.

They clustered at one end of the large table – Halward at the head, Dorian to his right, and Herathinos to his left. Livia sat next to Dorian. Had they been courting for real, they could have easily held hands or rubbed knees under the table. Instead, both Dorian and Livia held themselves tightly together, preventing even an accidental graze of an elbow as they ate.

Halward sustained polite small talk throughout the meal and Dorian smiled, adding  a witty comment in when the conversation lent itself to one. It was all very civilized and, had it not been for his intention to flee, it would have been a lovely casual dinner. 

Between the clearing away of the main course and the placing of dessert, Livia finally spoke for the first time since the meal began.

“What is it you are doing with yourself these days Dorian? Last I’d heard you were in Minrathous.” There was a look in her eye that added, “ _ cavorting with that Abrexis boy _ ”. 

Halward opened his mouth to respond but Dorian smoothly took the reins. “I have been focusing on my studies, dear Livia. As you may remember from our days as children at the academy together, I am a sponge for knowledge — all knowledge.” Dorian purred the last sentence as a covert confirmation of the accusation in her eyes. 

“Yes,” Halward cleared his throat and took over. “He is just finishing studies into business so he can take over the family business.”

“Oh, really?” Magister Herathinos questioned. “I never pictured you as the executive type, Dorian. Much too… free spirited. I think of you as an academic.”

Dorian schooled his face. That is what he had always hoped for as well. Perhaps once he was out of his father’s grasp…

“Well, theoretical knowledge will only get you so far in life. Sometimes one needs to remove their nose from the books and live in the real world. Isn’t that right, father?” Dorian had to swallow back a sneer. 

“Quite right. Quite right.” Halward was saved from further comment by the arrival of crème brûlée for dessert. Conversation ceased and the room was filled with the sound of breaking sugar crust. They ate in silence, which Dorian was grateful for. It was much easier to pretend he was enjoying himself when he didn’t need to listen to his father’s prattle. 

When dessert was finished and the ramekins removed, Dorian stood and cleared his throat. It was now or never. 

“Livia, my dear, would you give me the honour of accompanying me to the garden for a stroll?”

His nerves were starting to fray and he took a quick drink before stepping around his chair and offering Livia his hand. She seemed to hesitate, searching for something in Dorian’s face. Dorian wasn’t sure what she found there, but she nodded and took the hand, sliding gracefully from her chair. 

“Why don’t you and Magister Herathinos relax in your study, father, while I show Livia the grounds?”

Halward’s face twitched. Dorian could see him calculating risks and reactions. He clearly wanted to interrupt whatever Dorian had planned but couldn’t think of a valid excuse to keep Dorian from the garden.

A small victory.

“Excellent idea,” Halward said with no excitement whatsoever. He rang a bell and a servant appeared a moment later. “Magister Herathinos and I will be taking brandy in my study. Please bring digestives to accompany it.”

The servant nodded and disappeared.

“Enjoy,” Dorian said with a grand smile and whisked Livia from the dining room and through the halls to the garden. When they were outside, Livia extricated her hand from Dorian’s and wiped it on her dress like he’d sweated all over it. Given his nerves, perhaps he had.

“What is going on, Dorian?” Livia asked sternly. 

“Whatever do you mean, my dearest Livia?” Dorian’s tone was mocking. There was no use pretending there wasn’t a plan afoot. 

“Father said dinner was your idea.  _ Absurd _ . You have no desire to marry me.” She looked him up and down and said, “And I have no desire to marry you.”

Part of Dorian bristled at that. He was smart, handsome, rich… who wouldn’t want to marry him?

“And what is so wrong with me?” Dorian couldn’t help asking. 

“We both know exactly what is wrong with you.” She stared at him, waiting for something. When he didn’t continue she sighed. “I’ve known since we were in school together, Dorian. You’re not as good an actor as you think you are.”

“I once again have no idea what you are talking about.”

Livia snorted. “You enjoy the company of men, I believe.” 

She said it so casually. Like it meant nothing. Like she was commenting on the weather. 

Dorian stopped walking. He held his breath and stared at Livia’s back as she continued moving.

“You  _ know _ ?” He croaked out.

Her laugh was like bells. “Of course I know. Anyone truly paying attention would know. We just all look the other way. Though I’m sure some are holding onto the information, should you truly attempt to take over your father’s company.”

This time Dorian snorted. “No chance of that.”

“I should think not.” Livia gestured Dorian to catch up. He started moving, his legs leaden. When he reached her side, Livia linked her elbow with Dorian’s and leaned in close. “Now tell me what is going on.”

Telling Livia the truth had been one of the plans Dorian had thought of while planning his escape, but it was plan E. Now Livia was pushing the issue and he found he felt some relief at the idea of telling someone else what had been happening.

“I need to escape and having you over for dinner was the only way to get away long enough to do it.”

There was silence. It dragged on until Dorian’s nerves were on fire.

“Escape what?” Livia finally asked. 

“This house. My father.” Dorian wondered how much to say before continuing, “He’s been torturing me and now plans to use medication to cow me to his will — to make me marry you.”

Livia stopped and turned to face Dorian. “My god, Dorian.” He felt her shudder. “Well, I won’t marry you -- no matter what promises my father makes to yours. What is this, the Dragon Age? Who arranges marriages anymore? Barbaric.” Livia sniffed.

There was more silence before Dorian was able to speak. “So, will you help me?”

“Depends.” The look in her eyes was calculating. “What do you want me to do?”

“Walk with me to the wall around the east garden and then keep walking on your own for another half hour.”

“That’s it? And what do I tell your father when I wander back to the house alone?”

“I wandered off under the pretense of finding us drinks and I never returned.”

“Sounds simple enough. What’s in it for me?” Livia asked. 

“Freedom from this marriage?”

“Come now, Dorian. You can do better than that.”

“What is it you want?” Dorian asked, too stressed and tired to play her game.

“Shares in your father’s company.”

“Done,” Dorian said without any bargaining. “I’ll transfer them to you tomorrow, once I’m safely away.”

For a moment it seemed Livia would argue, but then she swallowed and nodded. 

“Agreed.”

“Thank you,” Dorian said with a relieved sigh. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Livia responded, ignoring the thank you. 

They walked as quickly as they dared to the east garden. The wall there bordered an orchard and had trees that extended branches over the wall and onto the Pavus ground. Dorian had climbed the trees as a child. When they reached one with a branch low enough for Dorian to jump and grab, he stopped. He reached for Livia’s forearms and looked at her intensely. 

“Thank you,” he said a second time. 

She rolled her eyes and nudged him. “Go.”

Dorian nodded. He planted a quick kiss on her cheek before releasing her and turning to the tree. He leapt. 

Dorian waved at Livia before disappearing over the side of the wall. He landed softly on the ground.

He was free.

With a deep inhale to still his nerves and fluttering stomach, Dorian began running as fast as he could through the orchard and towards the road in the hopes of finding a car to take him to freedom.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedom is not all it's cracked up to be.

 

The man’s hand was warm on Dorian’s knee as they drove down the highway. It should have been a pleasant feeling. The man was handsome and _had_ rescued Dorian from the side of the road… but instead of a warm flutter, Dorian felt lead in his stomach and ice climbing up his leg. He shifted in his seat and the man squeezed Dorian’s leg, obviously misinterpreting the shuffling.

 Breathing became difficult as the lead weight spread to press on Dorian’s chest. His lungs didn’t want to work properly and his heart rate increased. His skin itched and his stomach roiled.

 What the hell was happening to him?

Dorian tried to keep still and calm. He needed to get as far from his father’s estate as he could and this stranger was his ticket to freedom. So why didn’t he feel free? Why did he _still_ feel like he needed to flee?

Had the “treatments” worked?

Trying to push down the anxiety, Dorian focused on the passing landscape. It was pitch black out, but the lights of the car illuminated the trees and tall grasses before they passed. There was the occasional glint of eyes in the darkness and Dorian wondered what kind of creature it was. It helped settle the anxiety. Let him forget the man beside him. He was able to ignore the hand on his knee for a while.

 It would take a day to get from Qarinus to Minrathous by car and, God willing, to Rilienus. Dorian was starting to think he wouldn’t last another hour with the man casually drawing circles on his leg and chatting amiably. This should have been something Dorian managed well. Chatting and flirting with handsome strangers was one of his best skills, but instead he found his mouth dry as sand and a lump in his throat.

 By Vyrantium, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get away.

 The man seemed disappointed, but accepted Dorian’s curt goodbye. They were in the parking lot of a gas station and as Dorian watched the man pull away, the weight lifted from Dorian’s chest. There was a fear that subsided but it left in its place an empty numbness. Dorian shivered and leaned against the outside wall of the gas station, wrapping his arms around himself. His mind whirled as he tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

 Dorian was suddenly concerned about seeing Rilienus. He didn’t want to believe the torture had affected him. What would happen when Rilienus kissed him? When they tried to have sex? Was he broken now?

  _Broken_. Halward had considered Dorian broken and tried to fix him, and now that fix left Dorian a shadow of himself.

 He was getting looks as he stood, leaning against the gas station wall. It was clearly time to move on. But to where?

 Hitchhiking clearly wasn’t going to work, so Dorian needed another way to get to Minrathous. Bus, perhaps? That’s what regular people did, wasn’t it?

 Dorian began walking towards what signs indicated was the downtown of Vyrantium. He was exhausted and his feel hurt, but he kept moving.

 Eventually, Dorian wandered by an internet cafe. He stopped, considering the computers through the window. Without his phone he was at a loss, at least this place would allow him to find the bus station. Maybe even order tickets online.

 The place smelled of coffee and pastries. Dorian’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten in ten hours; it was about time for some breakfast. He walked up to the counter and ordered a latte and a croissant - an Orlesian pastry.  But when he went to pay with his debit card - denied. When he tried to pay with a credit card - denied. Second credit card - denied.

 Panic rose. Dorian hadn’t considered the financial consequences of fleeing. He pulled cash from his wallet and handed it over to the barista before numbly taking his latte and croissant and moving to a computer station.

  _No money_. He had no money. The crushing feeling returned to his chest and his skin turned damp. How would he survive without money?

 Maybe it wasn’t _all_ his accounts.

 Dorian logged into his bank account and discovered Halward had seized everything. His credit cards were blocked and his accounts frozen. The only money he had was the cash in his wallet and a small amount in a savings account Halward must not have known about. Still, that wouldn’t get him very far.

 He sipped at the latte as he worked. It tasted like ash in his mouth and the croissant suddenly held no appeal. His stomach lurched. Having signed into one of his social media accounts, he was met with a missing person’s post. The missing person was _him_.

 The post had been shared all across Tevinter. His friends and family were sharing it. He wasn’t surprised that they’d believe his father’s lie - he had been absent from his regular life, offline and on, for weeks while being held captive at the Pavus estate.

 This was all too much.

 Dorian quickly posted a status update:

  **Sorry I’ve been away so long. I lost my phone while traveling across Tevinter, taking in the sights of this beautiful country.**

 He could have told the truth. The first post he’d typed up had been a rant about homophobia and Tevinter society and his own father’s bigotry, but he found he couldn’t post it. He couldn’t publicly shame his father and his country, even considering how angry he was. He loved his home and his family and he couldn’t do it.

 Social media was his first opportunity to check in with Rilienus. There were a dozen unread messages and half of those were from Rilienus.

  **_Rilienus (12/11/2018 13:06):_ ** Dorian! Are you okay?

 **_Rilienus (12/11/2018 14:23):_ ** You left your phone here. I’ll courier it to Qanaris tomorrow.

 **_Rilienus (15/11/2018 09:47):_ ** Dorian? What’s going on?

 **_Rilienus (20/11/2018 20:34):_ ** Where are you?

 **_Rilienus (01/12/2018 10:15):_ ** Please answer me!

 **_Rilienus (18/12/2018 23:50):_ ** Dorian - I’m sorry but I can’t go on like this. Clearly something is going on in your life and you can’t feel bothered to let me in. I’ve sent you back your phone and left dozens of messages. You won’t respond here. I even travelled to Qanaris and was turned away, being told you had given orders that you didn’t want to see me. I don’t know what happened but, as much as it breaks my heart, I need to move on. Goodbye Dorian.

  _Goodbye Dorian?_

The room swam. His lungs burned and there was a prickling sensation in his eyes. The screen blurred and, for a moment, Dorian felt like he was falling. His world had been turned upside down over the last weeks and his _one_ lifeline was suddenly gone. The one person he thought he could turn to in this time was gone. The one person he’d ever loved… gone.

 A small voice in his head suggested: maybe it’s for the best.

 Perhaps it was; Dorian was broken. Not in the way his father thought, but based on the experience in the car earlier, the torture had left a mark on him. He was no longer the Dorian he was when he was with Rilienus. Perhaps, had he returned to Rilienus, he would have found he that he was made as nauseated by Rilienus’ touch as he was the by driver’s earlier. Maybe he’d flinch when they were together.

 Maybe being alone was how it should be.

 There was a moment of hesitation as Dorian considered sending Rilienus a note. Sending him an explanation and asking him to run away with him to somewhere better. But he didn’t. Let Rilienus move on. Dorian was broken and it wasn’t fair to hold Rilienus back from happiness — from his life.

 That decision made, Dorian felt stronger. The room stopped spinning and the gaping hole he felt had opened beneath him closed. But his heart ached. His cheeks were wet with tears and he used his napkin to wipe his nose.

 Everything he knew was now gone. He knew he needed to start over.

 Instead of looking for bus tickets, Dorian investigated plane tickets. He considered his options: Antiva was too expensive. The Free Marches were suffering internal turmoil. Perhaps Ferelden?

 A ticket to Ferelden would use up what little money he still had. What would he live on? How would he get by?

 He still had his looks and his wits.

 He found a last-minute ticket to Amaranthine and thanked God he’d had the sense to shove his passport in his jacket with the wallet.

 The flight didn’t take off for another six hours. There was a stop-over in Nevarra for a couple hours and then he’d be landing in Ferelden — in the cold south.

 Since he still had time before needing to leave for the airport, Dorian worked on a message to Felix. He was curious what Halward had told Alexius and what Alexius had said to Felix. Felix’s messages weren’t as panicked as Rilienus’ but there was clearly concern behind them. There was never any fooling Felix. He knew Dorian, and the Pavuses, too well.

 Dorian let Felix know he was well but that he was fleeing to Ferelden to get away from his father. He promised to let Felix know his new phone number when he landed and managed to get a new phone.

 The croissant slowly disappeared as Dorian picked at it absently. He didn’t taste it, but ate anyhow. He needed something in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what, or when, he’d eat again.

 Social media handled, Dorian took stock of his situation. He counted the money in his wallet and what would remain in his savings account after taxi to the airport and the flight - he was impoverished.

 Realizing the time, Dorian left the cafe and waved down a cab to take him to the airport. He sat in the back and watched Vyrantium shrink as they crawled through the city towards the airport.

 After an hour in the cab, they reached the airport. Dorian paid and tipped, even though he couldn’t afford it, and made his way inside.

 Luckily there were still seats available on the flight to Amaranthine, and Dorian took the cheapest one available.

 As he was checking in, he was given odd looks by the security staff. Noone travelled without at least a small carry-on, and yet here was a man heading to Ferelden with nothing but the clothes on his back. It was a red flag.

 He was almost through when he was pulled aside. _Of course_ even this wouldn’t be easy. Dorian wanted to complain, but he kept his mouth shut.

 “Dorian Pavus?” A large, bald man asked.

 “Yes?” Dorian replied haughtily.

 “Come with me, please.”

 “Whatever for, dear sir?” Dorian was tired and annoyed and just wanted to get on his flight. This man was another obstacle and Dorian couldn’t keep the tone from his voice.

 “Just come with me.” The guard reached out and gripped Dorian’s bicep and began guiding him away from the line. Dorian followed, shuffling his feet to make the trip as annoying to the guard as possible.

 He was led to a small room with a metal table and two chairs.

 “Have a seat.” The guard nudged Dorian toward a seat. The guard stood by the door and watched him.

 They waited.

 Dorian was starting to get agitated, which the evolved part of his brain knew was part of the point, and began tapping his toes. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and waited for whatever was going to happen, to happen.

 Eventually ,the room’s door opened and a tall, lithe man entered. Dorian flashed him one of his perfect smiles.

 It did nothing.

 The man took the seat opposite Dorian and set a clipboard on the table.

 “Dorian Pavus?”

 “At your service.” Dorian smiled again, sitting up straight and putting his shoulder back.

 “Where are you traveling today?”

 “Amaranthine.”

 “Without luggage?”

 “I’m a Pavus. Why travel with cumbersome luggage when you can simply buy everything you need when you reach your destination?”

 The man raised an eyebrow and made a note on the paper in front of him.

 “Are you aware there is a missing person’s notice out for you?”

 “Is there?” Dorian gasped, perhaps a touch too dramatically. “How very odd. Pray tell, who issued this alert?”

 “It was out of Qanaris. Based on the information here, your father filed the report.”

 “How very silly of him. I saw him just this morning. Don’t people have to be missing for over twenty-four hours before a missing person’s report can be filed?”

 “That is correct.” The man seemed confused. “So you’re not… in some kind of trouble, Mister Pavus?”

 “Trouble? Oh heavens no!” Dorian laughed and hoped it didn’t sound as forced as it felt. “I simply decided on a whim to jaunt off to Amaranthine. They have one of the best night club scenes, you know. I just couldn’t resist.”

 A smile and another laugh seemed to convince the man — who had clearly decided Dorian was a spoiled brat of a child — that Dorian was telling the truth. It was something Dorian would have done historically, so it was easy to pretend. Though there was still something in the man’s eyes which unnerved Dorian.

 “Why fly from Vyrantium and not Minrathous?”

 “The lovely scenery here?” Dorian said flippantly, panic rising as he tried to figure out where the line of questioning was going.

 “No, really. Why?”

 “I was visiting my father in Qanaris and Vyrantium was the closest international airport. It didn’t make sense to take a connecting flight here from Qanaris, so I drove down here.”

 More notes on the paper.

 “Could you please stand for me, Mister Pavus?”

 Dorian arched a brow, but stood without comment.

 “Please remove your jacket and shoes.”

 Dorian complied quickly, realizing now was not the time to be obstinate. He swallowed.

 The man stepped around the table.

 “Arm up and legs apart.”

 The hair on the back of Dorian’s neck stood up and he suppressed a shudder. The man patted along his arms, his back, and his legs. It felt invasive. Dorian felt violated, but he kept his mouth shut. It could be worse.

 “Alright, Mister Pavus. You’re free to go.”

 Dorian blinked. He stood with his arms out longer than necessary as his brain registered that it was over.

 “You can go now, Mister Pavus.” The man repeated curtly.

 “Right. Thank you.” Dorian lowered his arms, put on his shoes so quickly he fumbled with the laces, scooped up his suit jacket and fled the room.

 He passed through the rest of security without issue and just made his plane. When he was in his seat, buckled in, he inhaled deeply and let it out as a sigh. He slumped back, feeling dead on his feet.

 As soon as the plane took off, Dorian felt a weight lift from his chest - he was _away_. He was free.

  _And_ he was exhausted. As soon as the plane levelled out, Dorian’s eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the hope that freedom brought.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian lands in Ferelden and needs to figure out how to survive his night without money

Why was Ferelden so damnably cold? 

Dorian pulled his suit jacket tighter about himself and stuffed his fingers under his arms. No wonder he’d been given so many weird looks at security in Vyrantium – he was going to freeze to death in Ferelden without a change of clothes.

While Tevinter’s winters required, at most, a light jacket, Ferelden was a land of ice and snow. Dorian looked around and was relieved there wasn’t any sign of snow on the sidewalks. That would have been the last straw. 

He stood awkwardly on the sidewalk outside Amaranthine International Airport, trying to come to terms with his current situation, as well as come up with a plan for the future – starting with how to get out of the cold. 

Dorian took stock of what he  _ did _ have. Some money – barely spare change to a Pavus, but  _ still  _ \-- his wits, charm, and good looks...and a sneaking suspicion he’d been forever scarred by the “treatments” he’d been subjected to. 

The sum wasn’t much, but Dorian was resourceful and he’d figure something out. First things first though: to get warm. 

There were many ways for one to get warm – a fireplace, a warm jacket, a blanket, another person’s body, and alcohol. Given his current situation, Dorian decided to attempt to find as many of those as possible without spending money. 

The first step was to find a hotel bar. 

There were always hotels around airports, and those hotels would have bars filled with warm bodies. Dorian ignored that fact that he’d probably have an anxiety attack when touched by another man, and instead tried to focus on solutions for his own survival in a strange land. 

He didn’t need to walk long before he came across a hotel that looked nearly four-stars. By that point he was shivering and couldn’t feel the tip of his nose. The place would do. 

The lobby was all modern design and featured a gas fireplace. That fireplace was Dorian’s first stop. He warmed his hands by the fire and took off the suit jacket so the heat could get through his thin shirt and to his skin. It felt wonderful to be warm again. Dorian quickly realized he was a creature of the north and Ferelden was perhaps going to be more of a challenge than he’d anticipated. Not that he had a choice.

When he could feel his fingers and nose, Dorian’s next stop was the bathroom. He studied his reflection in the mirror; he looked like hell. Aside from the plane trip, he hadn’t slept in a day and it was starting to show, not to mention the toll the torture had taken. He wished for his khol and highlighting powder. He took some water in his hands and splashed it on his face, used a little to fix his hair and moustache, and sighed. It would have to do.

He stood a moment longer, staring into the mirror as a memory came to him. He and Rilienus sneaking away to a posh Minrathous hotel. They’d pretended not to know each other at the bar, and Dorian had to pick Rilienus up. Rilineus hadn’t made it easy but in the end Dorian had escorted him up to the room and they were quickly entwined on the bed.

A vice gripped Dorian’s chest and he choked down a sob.  _ Rilienus _ . 

_ No _ . Mourning would not do. There was no time to mourn with destitution and homelessness looming. Dorian splashed more water on his face to chase away the memory.

As cleaned up as possible, Dorian undid the first three buttons of his shirt and exited the bathroom in search of the bar. 

The plan was to get wickedly drunk without paying for it and, if he was lucky, find someone to take him upstairs to a nice comfortable bed. Dorian was a master at this sort of thing, so he didn’t think it would be a challenge.

The bar wasn’t busy, which lowered Dorian’s chances, but he sat on a stool at the bar anyhow. The bartender was a handsome man who, by his accent, was originally from Antiva. 

“What can I get you, my friend?” The blonde Antivan asked. 

“Just a glass of water, please.” Dorian twisted his moustache, a move he used to draw attention to his lips, and smiled at the bartender. His prey need not be a guest of the hotel, a bartender would do just as well. 

The bartender arched a brow and returned the smile. 

“Are you sure I cannot get you something… smoother?” the bartender encouraged.

“I am afraid I’m a little light this evening, so it will have to be water.”

With a small frown the bartender nodded and walked away. 

While he was gone, Dorian turned to survey the room. Airport hotel bars were filled with lonely individuals and it was just a matter of finding the right one. The women were an obvious no. There were the fat and ugly, which he’d like to avoid if possible… that didn’t leave many options. 

While he was contemplating a man sitting alone in a booth near the window, the bartender returned. He set a glass of dark red liquid in front of Dorian and grinned.

“On me, mi cariño,” the man purred. 

“Why thank you,” Dorian said smoothly and flashed a smile. 

“My pleasure.”

There was definitely something there. Dorian sipped the glass of port and watched the bartender move gracefully behind the bar. His ass was mesmerizing in his tight jeans and his fingers were dexterous and sure as he tossed bottles.

“Show off,” Dorian said with a laugh as the Antivan flipped a bottle and poured a shot in one smooth move, then sent the shot glass sliding down the bar to Dorian. The man winked and grinned. 

“Always,” he said, before going back to his other patrons. 

These antics carried on for hours and Dorian slowly became more and more inebriated. There was a sort of release attached to getting drunk. The fears faded away. Dorian felt more confident. He finally felt… free. 

It was all artificial, of course; Dorian knew it deep down, but he wouldn’t let that get in the way. He leaned casually on the bar, watching the bartender. The next drink he was served, Dorian ran his fingertips up the man’s hand and wrist, tracing a small circle on the man’s pulse point.

“When do you get off?” Dorian tried not to giggle at the words. He really was drunk.

“Another hour.” The smooth accent was really working on Dorian. 

“Do you live close by?”  

“A couple blocks. Though I am not sure you are in any condition to walk that far. Perhaps I will need to carry you.”

For some reason, that thought appealed to Dorian. He traced his fingers further up to brush along the man’s strong jaw. “I swoon at the thought of being wrapped in your strong arms.”

The man laughed and turned his head to kiss Dorian’s palm. 

“What is your name, hermoso?”

There was a second where Dorian considered giving a fake name. What if somehow his father found him? But it was ridiculous. So what if he did? There was no way to hurt him anymore. Rilienus was gone from his life…

“Dorian,” he said softly.

“Mmm. Dorian. Beautiful Dorian.” The bartender kissed the tip of each of Dorian’s fingers and smiled. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Zevran.”

“Antivan, yes?” Dorian asked.

“Quite. We are both far from home.” Zevran stepped back. “I will be back in but a moment, hermoso.”

Dorian tried not to pout as Zevran moved down the bar to joke and flirt with the other patrons. He knew it was necessary, but he was drunk enough that his brain was working on baser instincts. He found he wanted Zevran and there was no fear. No anxiety. He felt a tingle in his fingertips where Zevran had kissed them and a warmth in his chest.  _ Yes _ . He wanted the handsome Antivan very much. 

Realistically, he would have slept with anyone who would have had him if it meant a place to sleep that wasn’t the frigid streets of Amaranthine. 

At some point in the ensuing hour, Zevran placed food and a glass of water in front of Dorian. His stomach rumbled and lurched. He hadn’t eaten since his latte and croissant, unless you include a small bag of airplane pretzels, and his stomach was uncertain now that it was filled with alcohol. He picked hesitantly at the dish. His stomach settled slowly. 

Zevran let Dorian sit at the bar as he closed up for the night. When he was done he sidled up and wrapped an arm around Dorian’s waist. He leaned in, lips trailing lightly over Dorian’s neck to his ear.

“Shall we go, mi amor?”

Dorian hummed in the affirmative and nodded. He stumbled as he stood, but Zevran’s arm around his waist kept him upright. 

A couple blocks seemed like forever to Dorian. He stumbled along, wrapped in Zevran’s warm embrace, and was relieved when they reached Zevran’s apartment building. The apartment was sparse and small, but it had heat and a bed. Zevran guided Dorian smoothly to the bed and helped him sit. He crouched down and removed Dorian’s shoes and socks and began gently massaging his feet. 

There was so much tension the massage hurt, but Dorian didn’t tell him to stop. It was a good pain. Zevran slowly made his way up Dorian’s legs, massaging through his pants. Dorian let himself fall back on the bed as Zevran straddled Dorian’s hips to keep massaging. Up his chest, over his arms, his shoulders. Dorian had just closed his eyes when he felt Zevran’s lips on his neck and his fingers working his shirt open. 

Dorian shivered as Zevran pushed open his shirt and placed gentle kisses down his neck, over his collarbone, and trailed them down his chest. They were warm and light and Dorian closed his eyes to focus on the tingling they left behind. 

When Zevran reached his pants, the nimble fingers made quick work of belt and zipper, dipping under the edge to tease just above Dorian’s hardening cock. 

“Mmm. Mi cariño. You are so beautiful.” 

Dorian arched his hips up off the bed to allow Zevran to slide off his pants and boxers, leaving Dorian in nothing but an open shirt. His cock stood up and Zevran didn’t hesitate to take it in his fist. He worked it slowly, bending to take the tip between his lips. He sucked softly as his hand expertly twisted and pumped. 

Dorian’s stomach clenched and he was afraid he was going to come already. He moaned and gripped the sheets, eyes closed tightly as he tried to focus away. He didn’t want this to end so soon. What kind of amateur move would that be?

Closing his eyes had been a mistake. Rilienus’ face flashed into his mind and he had to hold back from crying out his name. He wasn’t with Rilienus. Rilienus didn’t want him anymore. 

“Zevran,” Dorian groaned, partially to please Zevran and partially to remind himself who he was with. He opened his eyes and looked down his body at Zevran’s bobbing head. It was a gorgeous sight and this time the groan was well earned. 

Zevran was a master. His tongue swirled around the head of Dorian’s cock lapping and pressing at just the right spots. His hand alternated between Dorian’s cock and gently squeezing his balls. Dorian was able to relax back and savour the attention. He wrapped a hand in Zevran’s hair and tugged gently, encouragingly. 

Maybe if he kept his eyes open, Rilienus wouldn’t return to his mind. So he watched and moaned. But the more he watched, the more uncomfortable he became. 

There was a cold growing in the pit of Dorian’s stomach where a heat should have been pooling. His fingers tightened in Zevran’s hair as Dorian felt the ghost of an electric shock on his arm. Zevran pulled back.

“Mi amor?” He looked up with warm and caring eyes. 

“I’m…” Dorian inhale deeply. “I’m fine.”

There was doubt in Zevran’s eyes but he nodded. Dorian reached up to grab his shoulders and encouraged Zevran to lay on his back. 

“Let me,” Dorian purred. He helped Zevran out of his clothes and when he was naked on the bed, Dorian took a moment to admire him. The man was gorgeous. A god. Perfection in tanned skin. 

A sharp pain ran up Dorian’s arm. He held back flinching but he couldn’t keep from gritting his teeth.

“Dorian?” Zevran pushed up onto his elbows, concern written across his face. 

“It is nothing, beautiful.” Dorian pushed him back down. He made his way slowly down Zevran’s perfect body, kissing and licking the delicious bronze skin. He focused on Zevran’s small sighs and quiet moans as he worked and pushed away the growing cold. 

Zevran’s cock was fully hard when Dorian’s lips wrapped around it. He sucked and licked at the tip, enjoying the taste that was Zevran. He slid down slowly, wrapping his hand around the base to hold Zevran still. 

Dorian focused on what he knew he was good at. He worked at Zevran’s cock until the man was gasping and clutching at the sheets. 

“Stop, mi armor, or it will be over too soon.”

_ Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad thing _ , Dorian thought as another imaginary shock coursed up his arm. But no – Dorian had to earn his keep. One blow job wasn’t enough to pay for all the drinks and food and a comfortable bed.

So he stopped toying with Zevran’s cock, giving it a light kiss as he pulled away. 

“Top or bottom?” Dorian asked coyly. Zevran seemed to consider.

“What would make you happy, hermoso?”

“Bottom,” Dorian said quickly. It was a role that would allow him to lose himself and perhaps Zevran wouldn’t notice any more odd twitches. 

“One moment.” Zevran shuffled up the bed so he could reach into the nightstand. He pulled a condom and a bottle of lube from the drawer. The condom he slipped quickly into the place, then slicked it with lube. He then grabbed a pillow and handed it to Dorian. “Please, relax.”

Hips settled on the pillow and chin resting on his forearms, Dorian spread his legs, inviting Zevran in.  He felt cold, slick fingers tracing lines up and down his crack before rubbing gently at his hole. He was worked open slowly. Zevran was gentle and liberal with the lube. 

“Ready?” Zevran asked against Dorian’s ear. 

“Ready.”

There was a slight burn as Zevran pushed in. It had been weeks since Dorian’s last encounter, and even Zevran’s attentions couldn’t prevent the stretch. 

When he was completely in, Zevran paused. He rested and let Dorian adjust. As Dorian relaxed around him, Zevran began moving slowly. 

Zevran was a gentle and caring partner. He slid a hand under Dorian to grip his cock as his hips thrust.  The cold lump was still in Dorian’s stomach, but he was able to ignore it in favour of Zevran’s attentions, and when the head of Zevran’s cock hit him just right, he cried out. 

Rilienus, the cold, and the electric shocks were forgotten as Dorian’s vision filled with white stars and he suddenly spilled over Zevran’s hand. Zevran groaned in response and picked up speed. He thrust hard, fingers digging into Dorians hips, until he let out a cry of his own and collapsed onto Dorian’s back.

In the aftermath, the cold in Dorian’s gut returned — was suddenly intense — and there was an itch on Dorian’s arms. He felt nauseated. It could have been the booze. He’d drunk a lot… but… Dorian wiggled out from under Zevran and rushed to the bathroom. He dropped to his knees and retched into the toilet, clutching the cold porcelain tightly. 

“Dorian? Dorian are you okay?” 

He heard Zevran’s footsteps on the wood floor and then the tile behind him. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and tried not to flinch. It suddenly all felt so wrong. He couldn’t do this…. 

“Fine. Just too much alcohol,” Dorian mumbled into the toilet bowl. 

Zevran didn’t say anything, simply walked away. Dorian felt more miserable, as he’d been abandoned once again. Except he  _ hadn’t  _ been. Zevran returned with a pillow and a blanket, which he wrapped around Dorian’s shoulders.

“Shhh, mi amor. Rest here. If you feel better later, you can come to bed, but don’t push yourself.” Zevran rubbed gentle circle on Dorian’s back and helped him settle onto the pillow. 

When Zevran had wandered back to the bedroom, Dorian curled on his side and let out a sob. He  _ was  _ broken, after all. His father had succeeded. The touch of a man made him sick. Halward had gotten his wish, and that made Dorian furious. 

As he drifted off to sleep, the taste of vomit still in his mouth, Dorian could think of nothing but getting back to normal and denying his father this win.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still alive. Still trying to write. Promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for getting on my ride. I hope you enjoyed. While the first chapter is smut, it's quite a few chapters before it's smut again. So if you're in it for the smut, you'll have to wait a while.
> 
> Thank you greatly to ponticle and my friend Leif for their edits. This wouldn't be as good as it is without their thoughtful insight and dedication.


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